The population, especially the rising population about Nonsuch House, all
inclined that way. A New Year's Day's hunt with Sir Harry had long been
looked forward to by the little Raws, and the little Spooneys, and the big
and little Cheeks, and we don't know how many others. Nay, it had been
talked of by the elder boys at their respective schools--we beg pardon,
academies--Dr. Switchington's, Mr. Latherington's, Mrs. Skelper's, and a
liberal allowance of boasting indulged in, as to how they would show each
other the way over the hedges and ditches. The thing had long been talked
of. Old Johnny Raw had asked Sir Harry to arrange the day so long ago that
Sir Harry had forgotten all about it. Sir Harry was one of those
good-natured souls who can't say 'No' to any one. If anybody had asked if
they might set fire to his house, he would have said:
'Oh (hiccup) certainly, my dear (hiccup) fellow, if it will give you any
(hiccup) pleasure.'
Now, for the hiccup day.
It is generally a frost on New Year's Day. However wet and sloppy the
weather may be up to the end of the year, it generally turns over a new
leaf on that day.
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