'Hunt!' exclaimed Bob Spangles; 'why, the ground's as hard as bricks.'
'N-o-a, it's not,' replied the youth.
'What a whelp!' exclaimed Miss Howard, rising from the table in disgust.
'My Uncle Jellyboy wouldn't let such a frost stop him, I know,' observed
the boy.
'Who's your Uncle Jellyboy?' asked Miss Glitters.
'He's a farmer, and keeps a few harriers at Scutley,' observed Bob
Spangles, _sotto voce_.
'And is that your extraordinary horse with all the legs?' asked Miss
Howard, putting her glass to her eye, and scrutinizing a lank,
woolly-coated weed, getting led about by a blue-aproned gardener. 'Is that
your extraordinary horse, with all the legs?' repeated she, following the
animal about with her glass.
'Hoots, it hasn't more legs than other people's,' growled George.
'It's got ten, at all events,' replied Miss Howard, to the astonishment of
the juveniles.
'Nor, it hasn't,' replied George.
'Yes, it has,' rejoined the lady.
'Nor, it hasn't,' repeated George.
'Come and see,' said the lady; adding, 'perhaps it's put out some since you
got off.
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