I'm dashed if it isn't the very country for a steeple-chase!' continued
Watchorn, casting his eye over Cloverly Park, round the enclosure of
Langworth Grange, and up the rising ground of Lark Lodge.
The more Watchorn thought of it, the more he was satisfied of its
feasibility, and he trotted over, the next day, to the Old Duke of
Cumberland, to see his friend on the subject. Viney, like most victuallers,
was more given to games of skill--billiards, shuttlecock, skittles,
dominoes, and so on--than to the rude out-of-door chances of flood and
field, and at first he doubted his ability to grapple with the details; but
on Mr. Watchorn's assurance that he would keep him straight, he gave Mrs.
Viney a key, desiring her to go into the inner cellar, and bring out a
bottle of the green seal. This was ninety-shilling sherry--very good stuff
to take; and, by the time they got into the second bottle, they had got
into the middle of the scheme too. Viney was cautious and thoughtful. He
had a high opinion of Watchorn's sagacity, and so long as Watchorn confined
himself to weights, and stakes, and forfeits, and so on, he was content to
leave himself in the hands of the huntsman; but when Watchorn came to talk
of 'stewards,' putting this person and that together, Viney's experience
came in aid.
Pages:
905
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929