'Let _me_ have a shy,' squeaked George Cheek, backing his giraffe, as he
had seen Mr. Sponge and Miss Glitters do.
George took his screw by the head, and, giving him a hearty rib-roasting
with his whip, ran him full tilt at the palings, and carried away half a
rood.
'Hoo-ray!' cried the liberated field.
'_I_ knew how it would be,' exclaimed Mr. Watchorn, in well-feigned disgust
as he rode through the gap; adding, '_con_-founded young waggabone!
Deserves to be well _chaste_-tized for breakin' people's palin's in that
way--lettin' in all the rubbishin' tail.'
The scene then changed. In lieu of the green, though hard, sward of the
undulating park, our friends now found themselves on large frozen fallows,
upon whose uneven surface the heaviest horses made no impression while the
shuffling rats of ponies toiled and floundered about, almost receding in
their progress. Mr. Sponge was just topping the fence out of the first one,
and Miss Glitters was gathering her horse to ride at it, as Watchorn and
Co. emerged from the park.
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