'Oh, you unrighteous young renegade! Did ever mortal see sich an
uncivilized trick?' roared Watchorn; adding, as he climbed on to his horse
again, and went spluttering through the frozen turnips after the offender,
'You've no 'quaintance with Lord John Manners, I think!'
'Oh dear!--oh dear!' exclaimed he, as his horse nearly came on his head,
'but this is the most punishin' affair I ever was in at. Puseyism's nothin'
to it.' And thereupon he indulged in no end of anathemas at Slarkey for
bringing the wrong fox.
'About time to take soundings, and cast anchor, isn't it?' gasped Captain
Bouncey, toiling up red-hot on his pulling horse in a state of utter
exhaustion, as Watchorn stood craneing and looking at a rasper through
which Mr. Sponge and Miss Glitters had passed, without disturbing a twig.
'C--a--s--t anchor!' exclaimed Watchorn, in a tone of derision--'not this
half-hour yet, I hope!--not this forty minnits yet, I hope;--not this hour
and twenty minnits yet, I hope!' continued he, putting his horse
irresolutely at the fence.
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