MR. sponge's sporting tour. 401 



even the outline of the conversation that followed. It was carried 

 on in such broken and disjointed sentences, eyes and squeezes doing 

 so much more work than words, that even a reporter would have had 

 to draw largely upon his imagination for the substance. Suffice it to 

 say, that though the thermometer was below zero, they never moved 

 out of a foot's pace ; the very hounds growing tired of the trail, and 

 slinking off one by one as opportunity occurred. 



A dazzling sun was going down with a blood-red glare, and the 

 partially softened ground was fast resuming its fretwork of frost, as 

 our hero and heroine were seen sauntering up the western avenue to 

 Nonsuch House, as slowly and quietly as if it had been the hottest 

 evening in summer. 



" Here's old Coppertops ! " exclaimed Captain Seedeybuck, as, 

 turning around in the billiard-room to chalk his cue, he espied them 

 crawling along. "And Lucy!" added he, as he stood watching 

 them. 



" How slow they come ! " observed Bob Spangles, going to the 

 window. 



"Must have tired their horses," suggested Captain Quod. 



" Just the sort of man to tire a horse," rejoined Bob Spangles. 



" Hate that Sponge," observed Captain Cutitfat. 



" So do I," replied Captain Quod. 



" Well, never mind the beggar ! It's you to play ! " exclaimed 

 Bob Spangles to Captain Seedeybuck. 



But Lady Scattercash, who was observing our friends from her 

 boudoir window, saw with a woman's eye that there was something 

 more than a mere case of tired horses; and, tripping down stairs, 

 she arrived at the front door just as the fair Lucy dropped smilingly 

 from her horse into Mr. Sponge's extended arms. Hurrying up into 

 the, boudoir, Lucy gave her ladyship one of Mr. Sponge's modified 

 kisses, revealing the truth more eloquently than words could convey. 



" Oh," Lady Scattercash was " so glad ! " " so delighted ! " " so 

 charmed ! " 



Mr. Sponge was such a nice man, and so rich. She was sure he 

 was rich — couldn't hunt if he wasn't. Would advise Lucy to have a 

 good settlement, in case he broke his neck. And pin-money ! pin- 

 money was most useful ; no husband ever let his wife have enough 

 money. Must forget all about Harry Dacre and Charley Brown, 

 and the swell in the Blues. Must be prudent for the future. Mr. 

 Sponge would never know anything of the past. Then she rev 

 to the interesting subject of settlements. " What had Mr. Sponge 

 got, and what would he do ? " This Lucy couldn't tell. " What ! 

 hadn't he told her where his estates were ? "— " No." " Well, was 

 his dad dead ? " This Lucy didn't know either. They had 

 further than the tender prop. " Ah ! well ; would get it all out of 

 him by degrees." And with the reiteration of her " so glads," and 



