'However, never mind,
we'll "sugar Puff's milk," as Mr. Bragg would say, without po'try.' So
saying, Mr. Spraggon stumped back to his easy-chair. 'Well, now,' said he,
seating himself comfortably in it, 'let's see where did we go first? "He
broke at the lower end of the cover, and, crossing the brook, made straight
for Fleecyhaugh Water Meadows, over which," you may say, "there's always a
ravishing scent."' 'Have you got that?' asked Jack, after what he thought
a sufficient lapse of time for writing it.
'"Ravishing scent,"' repeated Sponge as he wrote the words.
'Very good,' said Jack, smoking and considering. '"From there,"' continued
he, '"he made a bit of a bend, as if inclining for the plantations at
Winstead, but, changing his mind, he faced the rising ground, and crossing
over nearly the highest part of Shillington Hill, made direct for the
little village of Berrington Roothings below."'
'Stop!' exclaimed Sponge, 'I haven't got half that; I've only got to "the
plantations at Winstead."' Sponge made play with his pen, and presently
held it up in token of being done.
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