Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour Part 48

'Give me eleven golden sovereigns for my chance,' repeated Sponge slowly, in order that there might be no mistake.

'Eleven golden sovereigns for your chance,' repeated Jack.

'Done!' replied Sponge.

'Done!' repeated Jack.

'Let's jog on and do it at once while the thing's fresh in our minds,' said Jack, working his horse into a trot.

Sponge did the same; and the gra.s.s-siding of Orlantire Parkwall favouring their design, they increased the trot to a canter. They soon pa.s.sed the park's bounds, and entering upon one of those rarities--an unenclosed common, angled its limits so as to escape the side-bar, and turning up Farningham Green lane, came out upon the Kingsworth and Swillingford turnpike within sight of Hanby House.

'We'd better pull up and walk the horses gently in, p'raps,' observed Sponge, reining his in.

'Ah! I was only wantin' to get home before the rest,' observed Jack, pulling up too.

They then proceeded more leisurely together.

'We'd better get into one of our bedrooms to do it,' observed Jack, as they pa.s.sed the lodge. 'Just so,' replied Sponge, adding, 'I dare say we shall want all the quiet we can get.'

'Oh no!' said Jack; 'the thing's simple enough--met at such a place--found at such another--killed at so and so.'

'Well, I hope it will,' said Sponge, riding into the stable-yard, and resigning his steed to the care of his groom.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Jack did the same by Sponge's other horse, which he had been riding, and in reply to Leather's inquiry (who stood with his right hand ready, as if to shake hands with him), 'how the horse had carried him?' replied:

'Cursed ill,' and stamped away without giving him anything.

'Ah, _you're_ a gen'leman, you are,' muttered Leather, as he led the horse away. 'Now, come!' exclaimed Jack to Sponge, 'come! let's get in before any of those bothersome fellows come'; adding, as he dived into a pa.s.sage, 'I'll show you the back way.'

After pa.s.sing a scullery, a root-house, and a s.p.a.cious entrance-hall, upon a table in which stood the perpetual beer-jug and bread-basket, a green baize door let them into the regions of upper service, and pa.s.sing the dashed carpets of the housekeeper's room and butler's pantry, a red baize door let them into the far-side of the front entrance. Having deposited their hats and whips, they bounded up the richly carpeted staircase to their rooms.

Hanby House, as we have already said, was splendidly furnished. All the grandeur did not run to the entertaining rooms; but each particular apartment, from the state bedroom down to the smallest bachelor snuggery, was replete with elegance and comfort.

Like many houses, however, the bedrooms possessed every imaginable luxury except boot-jacks and pens that would write. In Sponge's room for instance, there were hip-baths, and foot-baths, a shower-bath, and hot and cold baths adjoining, and mirrors innumerable; an eight-day mantel-clock, by Moline of Geneva, that struck the hours, half-hours, and quarters: cut-gla.s.s toilet candlesticks, with silver sconces; an elegant zebra-wood cabinet; also a beautiful davenport of zebra-wood, with a plate-gla.s.s back, containing a pen rug worked on silver ground, an ebony match box, a blue crystal, containing a sponge pen-wiper, a beautiful envelope-case, a white-cornelian seal, with 'Hanby House' upon it, wax of all colours, papers of all textures, envelopes without end--every imaginable requirement of correspondence except a pen that would write. There _were_ pens, indeed--there almost always are--but they were miserable apologies of things; some were mere crow-quills--sort of cover-hacks of pens, while others were great, clumsy, heavy-heeled, cart-horse sort of things, clotted up to the hocks with ink, or split all the way through--vexatious apologies, that throw a person over just at the critical moment, when he has got his sheet prepared and his ideas all ready to pour upon paper; then splut--splut--splutter goes the pen, and away goes the train of thought. Bold is the man who undertakes to write his letters in his bedroom with country-house pens. But, to our friends. Jack and Sponge slept next door to each other; Sponge, as we have already said, occupying the state-room, with its canopy-topped bedstead, carved and panelled sides, and elegant chintz curtains lined with pink, and ma.s.sive silk-and-bullion ta.s.sels; while Jack occupied the dressing-room, which was the state bedroom in miniature, only a good deal more comfortable. The rooms communicated with double doors, and our friends very soon effected a pa.s.sage.

'Have you any 'baccy?' asked Jack, waddling in in his slippers, after having sucked off his tops without the aid of a boot-jack.

'There's some in my jacket pocket,' replied Sponge, nodding to where it hung in the wardrobe; 'but it won't do to smoke here, will it?' asked he.

'Why not?' inquired Jack.

'Such a fine room,' replied Sponge, looking around.

'Oh, fine be hanged!' replied Jack, adding, as he made for the jacket, 'no place too fine for smokin' in.'

Having helped himself to one of the best cigars, and lighted it, Jack composed himself cross-legged in an easy, spring, stuffed chair, while Sponge fussed about among the writing implements, watering and stirring up the clotted ink, and denouncing each pen in succession, as he gave it the initiatory trial in writing the word 'Sponge.'

'Curse the pens!' exclaimed he, throwing the last bright crisp yellow thing from him in disgust. 'There's not one among 'em that can go!--all reg'larly stumped up.'

'Haven't you a penknife?' asked Jack, taking the cigar out of his mouth.

'Not I,' replied Sponge.

'Take a razor, then,' said Jack, who was good at an expedient.

'I'll take one of yours,' said Sponge, going into the dressing-room for one. 'Hang it, but you're rather too sharp,' exclaimed Jack, with a shake of his head.

'It's more than your razor 'll be when I'm done with it,' replied Sponge.

Having at length, with the aid of Jack's razor, succeeded in getting a pen that would write, Mr. Sponge selected a sheet of best cream-laid satin paper, and, taking a cane-bottomed chair, placed himself at the table in an att.i.tude for writing. Dipping the fine yellow pen in the ink, he looked in Jack's face for an idea. Jack, who had now got well advanced in the cigar, sat squinting through his spectacles at our scribe, though apparently looking at the top of the bed.

'Well?' said Sponge, with a look of inquiry.

'Well,' replied Jack, in a tone of indifference.

'How shall I begin?' asked Sponge, twirling the pen between his fingers, and spluttering the ink over the paper.

'Begin!' replied Jack, 'begin, oh, begin, just as you usually begin.'

'As a letter?' asked Sponge.

'I 'spose so,' replied Jack; 'how would you think?'

'Oh, I don't know,' replied Sponge. 'Will _you_ try your hand?' added he, holding out the pen.

'Why, I'm busy just now, you see,' said he, pointing to his cigar, 'and that horse of yours' (Jack had ridden the redoubtable chestnut, Multum-in-Parvo, who had gone very well in the company of Hercules) pulled so confoundedly that I've almost lost the use of my fingers,' continued he, working away as if he had got the cramp in both hands; 'but I'll prompt you,' added he, 'I'll prompt you.'

'Why don't you begin then?' asked Sponge.

'Begin!' exclaimed Jack, taking the cigar from his lips; 'begin!' repeated he, 'oh, I'll begin directly--didn't know you were ready.'

Jack then threw himself back in his chair, and sticking out his little bandy legs, turned the whites of his eyes up to the ceiling, as if lost in meditation.

'Begin,' said he, after a pause, 'begin, "This splendid pack had a stunning run."'

'But we must put _what_ pack first,' observed Sponge, writing the words 'Mr. Puffington's hounds' at the top of the paper. 'Well,' said he, writing on, 'this stunning pack had a splendid run.'

'No, not stunning _pack_,' growled Jack, '_splendid_ pack--"this splendid pack had a stunning run."'

'Stop!' exclaimed Sponge, writing it down; 'well,' said he looking up, 'I've got it.'

'This stunning pack had a splendid run,' repeated Jack, squinting away at the ceiling.

'I thought you said _splendid_ pack,' observed Sponge.

'So I did,' replied Jack.