Springwheat.'
'It's to be hoped Springy's out of the brook,' observed Jack.
'To be hoped so,' replied his lordship, thinking, if he wasn't whether he
should marry Mrs. Springwheat or not.
Well now, after all that, we fancy we hear our fair friends exclaim, 'Thank
goodness, there's an end of Lord Scamperdale and his hunting; he has had a
good run, and will rest quiet for a time; we shall now hear something of
Amelia and Emily, and the doings at Jawleyford Court.' Mistaken lady! If
you are lucky enough to marry an out-and-out fox-hunter, you will find that
a good run is only adding fuel to the fire, only making him anxious for
more. Lord Scamperdale's sporting fire was in full blaze. His bumps and his
thumps, his rolls, and his scrambles, only brought out the beauties and
perfections of the thing. He cared nothing for his hat-crown, no; nor for
his coat-lap either. Nay, he wouldn't have cared if it had been made into a
spencer.
'What's to-day? Monday,' said his lordship, answering himself. 'Monday,' he
repeated; 'Monday--bubble-and-squeak, I guess--sooner it's ready the
better, for I'm half-famished--didn't do half-justice to that nice
breakfast at Springy's.
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