239 



" Bad ! — no," squinted Jack, " devilish good — for Puff, at least," 

 adding, " I question he's had a better this season." 



" Well, we are in luck," observed Tom Washball, riding up and 

 joining them ; " we are in luck to have a satisfactory thing with you 

 great connoisseurs out." 



" A pretty thing enough," replied Jack, " pretty thing enough." 



" Oh, I don't mean to say it's equal to many we've had this 

 season," replied Washball ; " nothing like the Broughton Hill day, 

 nor yet the Hembury Forest one ; but still, considering the meet and 

 slate of the country " 



" Hout ! the country's good enough," growled Jack, who hated 

 Washball ; adding, " A good fox makes any country good ; " with 

 which observation he sidled up to Sponge, leaving Washball in the 

 middle of the road. 



" That reminds me," said Jack, soito voce to Sponge, " that the 

 crittur wants his run puffed, and he thinks you can do it." 



" Me ! " exclaimed Sponge, " what's put that in his head ?" 



" Why, you see," exclaimed Jack, " the first time you came out 

 with our hounds at Dundleton Tower, you'll remember — or rather, 

 the first time we saw you, when your horse ran away with you — some- 

 body, Fyle, I think it was, said you were a literary cove; and Puff, 

 catchin' at the idea, has never been able to get rid of it since ; and the 

 fact is, he'd like to be flattered — he'd be uncommonly pleased if you 

 were to ' soft saudor ' him handsomely." 



"Me/" exclaimed Sponge; "bless your heart, man, I can't 

 write anything — nothing fit to print at least." 



" Hout, fiddle ! " retorted Spraggon, " you can write as well as any 

 other man ; see what lots of fellows write, and nobody ever finds 

 fault," 



" But the spellin' bothers one," replied Sponge with a shake of 

 his elbow and body, as if the idea was quite out of the question. 



" Hang the spellin'," muttered Jack, "one can always borrow a 

 dictionary ; or let the man of the paper — the editor as they call him 

 — smooth out the spellin'. You say at the end of your letter, that 

 your hands are cold, or your hand aches with holdin' a pullin' horse, 

 and you'll thank him to correct any inadvertencies — you needn't call 

 them errors, you know." 



" But where's the use of it? " exclaimed Sponge ; " it '11 do us 

 no good, you know, praisin' Puff's pack, or himself, or anything about 

 him." 



" That's just the point," said Jack, " that's just the point. I can 

 make it answer both our purposes," said he, with a nudge of the 

 elbow, and an inside-out squint of his eyes. 



" Ah, that's another matter," replied our friend ; "if we can turn 

 the thing to account, well and good^-I'm your man for a shy." 



" We can turn it to account," rejoined Jack ; " we can turn it to 



