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Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour Part 83

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The boys sat mute.

'You little stupid monkeys,' muttered she in an undertone, as the cold air struck upon her head. 'Come in, like good boys,' added she in a louder key, pointing with her finger towards the door.

'Nor, thenk ye!' at last drawled the elder of the boys.

'Nor, thenk ye!' repeated Miss Howard, imitating the drawl. 'Why not?'

asked she sharply.

The boy stared stupidly.

'Why won't you come in?' asked she, again addressing him.

'Don't know!' replied the boy, staring vacantly at his younger brother, as he rubbed a pearl off his nose on the back of his hand.

'Don't know!' e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Miss Howard, stamping her little foot on the Turkey carpet.

'Mar said we hadn't,' whined the younger boy, coming to the rescue of his brother.

'Mar said we hadn't!' retorted the fair interrogator. 'Why not?'

'Don't know,' replied the elder.

'Don't know! you little stupid animal,' snapped Miss Howard, the cold air increasing the warmth of her temper. 'I wonder what you _do_ know. Why did your ma say you were not to come in?' continued she, addressing the younger one.

'Because--because,' hesitated he, 'she said the house was full of trumpets.'

'Trumpets, you little scamp!' exclaimed the lady, reddening up; 'I'll get a whip and cut your jacket into ribbons on your back.' And thereupon she banged down the window and closed the conversation.

CHAPTER LXIII

THE RISING GENERATION

The lull that prevailed in the breakfast-room on Miss Howard's return from the window was speedily interrupted by fresh arrivals before the door. The three Master Baskets in coats and lay-over collars, Master Shutter in a jacket and trousers, the two Master Bulgeys in woollen overalls with very large hunting whips, Master Brick in a velveteen shooting-jacket, and the two Cheeks with their tweed trousers thrust into fiddle-case boots, on all sorts of ponies and family horses, began pawing and disordering the gravel in front of Nonsuch House.

George Cheek was the head boy at Mr. Latherington's cla.s.sical and commercial academy, at Flagellation Hall (late the Crown and Sceptre Hotel and Posting House, on the Bankstone road), where, for forty pounds a year, eighty young gentlemen were fitted for the pulpit, the senate, the bar, the counting-house, or anything else their fond parents fancied them fit for.

George was a tall stripling, out at the elbows, in at the knees, with his red knuckled hands thrust a long way through his tight coat. He was just of that awkward age when boys fancy themselves men, and men are not prepared to lower themselves to their level. Ladies get on better with them than men: either the ladies are more tolerant of twaddle, or their discerning eyes see in the gawky youth the germ of future usefulness. George was on capital terms with himself. He was the oracle of Mr. Latherington's school, where he was not only head boy and head swell, but a considerable authority on sporting matters. He took in _Bell's Life_, which he read from beginning to end, and 'noted its contents,' as they say in the city.

'I'll tell you what all these little (hiccup) animals will be wanting,'

observed Sir Harry, as he cayenne-peppered a turkey's leg; 'they'll be come for a (hiccup) hunt.'

'Wish they may get it,' observed Captain Seedeybuck; adding, 'why, the ground's as hard as iron.'

'There's a big boy,' observed Miss Howard, eyeing George Cheek through the window.

'Let's have him in, and see what he's got to say for himself,' said Miss Glitters.

'_You_ ask him, then,' rejoined Miss Howard, who didn't care to risk another rub.

'Peter,' said Lady Scattercash to the footman, who had been loitering about, listening to the conversation,--'Peter, go and ask that tall boy with the blue neckerchief and the riband round his hat to come in.'

'Yes, my lady,' replied Peter.

'And the (hiccup) Spooneys, and the (hiccup) Bulgeys, and the (hiccup) Raws, and all the little (hiccup) rascals,' added Sir Harry.

'The Raws won't come. Sir H.,' observed Miss Howard soberly.

'Bigger fools they,' replied Sir Harry.

Presently Peter returned with a tail, headed by George Cheek, who came striding and slouching up the room, and stuck himself down on Lady Scattercash's right. The small boys squeezed themselves in as they could, one by Captain Seedeybuck, another by Captain Bouncey, one by Miss Glitters, a fourth by Miss Howard, and so on. They all fell ravenously upon the provisions.

Gobble, gobble, gobble was the order of the day.

'Well, and how often have you been flogged this half?' asked Lady Scattercash of George Cheek, as she gave him a cup of coffee.

Her ladyship hadn't much liking for youths of his age, and would just as soon vex them as not.

'Well, and how often have you been flogged this half?' asked she again, not getting an answer to her first inquiry.

'Not at all,' growled Cheek, reddening up.

'Oh, flogged!' exclaimed Miss Glitters. 'You wouldn't have a young man like him flogged; it's only the little boys that get that--is it, Mister Cheek?'

'To be sure not,' a.s.sented the youth.

'Mister Cheek's a man,' observed Miss Glitters, eyeing him archly, as he sat stuffing his mouth with currant-loaf plentifully besmeared with raspberry-jam. 'He'll be wanting a wife soon,' added she, smiling across the table at Captain Seedeybuck.

'I question but he's got one,' observed the captain.

'No, ar haven't,' replied Cheek, pleased at the imputation.

'Then there's a chance for you. Miss G.,' retorted the captain. 'Mrs.

George Cheek would look well on a glazed card with gilt edges.'

'What a cub!' exclaimed Miss Howard, in disgust.

'You're another,' replied Master Cheek, amidst a roar of laughter from the party.

'Well, but you ask your master if you mayn't have a wife next half, and we'll see if we can't arrange matters,' observed Miss Glitters.

'Noo, ar sharn't,' replied George, stuffing his mouth full of preserved apricot.

'Why not?' asked Miss Howard, 'Because--because--ar'll have somethin'

younger,' replied George.

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Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour Part 83 summary

You're reading Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour. This manga has been translated by Updating. Author(s): Robert Smith Surtees. Already has 651 views.

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