Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour Part 76

Pa.s.sing onward, Mr. Sponge came to a red-baized, bra.s.s-nailed door, which, opening freely on a patent spring, revealed the fine proportions of a light picture-gallery with which the bright mahogany doors of the entertaining rooms communicated. Opening the first door he came to, our friend found himself in the elegant drawing-room, on whose round bird's-eye-maple table, in the centre, were huddled all the unequal-lengthed candles of the previous night's illumination. It was a handsome apartment, fitted up in the most costly style; with rose-colour brocaded satin damask, the curtains trimmed with silk ta.s.sel fringe, and ornamented with ma.s.sive bullion ta.s.sels on cornices, Cupids supporting wreaths under an arch, with open carved-work and enrichments in burnished gold. The room, save the muster of the candles, was just as it had been left; and the richly gilt sofa still retained the indentations of the sitters, with the luxurious down pillows, left as they had been supporting their backs.

The room reeked of tobacco, and the ends and ashes of cigars dotted the tables and white marble chimney-piece, and the gilt slabs and the finely flowered Tournay carpet, just as the fires of gipsies dot and disfigure the fair face of a country. Costly china and nick-nacks of all sorts were scattered about in profusion. Altogether, it was a beautiful room.

'No want of money here,' said Mr. Sponge to himself, as he eyed it, and thought what havoc Gustavus James would make among the ornaments if he had a chance.

He then looked about for pen, ink, and paper. These were distributed so wide apart as to show the little request they were in. Having at length succeeded in getting what he wanted gathered together, Mr. Sponge sat down on the luxurious sofa, considering how he should address his host, as he hoped. Mr. Sponge was not a shy man, but, considering the circ.u.mstances under which he made Sir Harry Scattercash's acquaintance, together with his design upon his hospitality--above all, considering the crew by whom Sir Harry was surrounded--it required some little tact to pave the way without raising the present inmates of the house against him. There are no people so anxious to protect others from robbery as those who are robbing them themselves. Mr. Sponge thought, and thought, and thought. At last he resolved to write on the subject of the hounds. After sundry attempts on pink, blue, and green-tinted paper, he at last succeeded in hitting off the following, on yellow:

'NONSUCH HOUSE.

'DEAR SIR HARRY,--I rode over this morning, hearing you were to hunt, and am sorry to find you indisposed. I wish you would drop me a line to Mr. Crowdey's, Puddingpote Bower, saying when next you go out, as I should much like to have another look at your splendid pack before I leave this country, which I fear will have to be soon.--Yours in haste,

'H. SPONGE.

'P.S.--I hope you all got safe home the other night from Mr.

Peastraw's.'

Having put this into a richly gilt and embossed envelope, our friend directed it conspicuously to Sir Harry Scattercash, Bart., and stuck it in the centre of the mantelpiece. He then retraced his steps through the back regions, informing the sleeping beauty he had before disturbed, and who was now busy scouring a pan, that he had left a letter in the drawing-room for Sir Harry, and if she would see that he got it, he (Mr. Sponge) would remember her the next time he came, which he inwardly hoped would be soon.

He then made for the stable, and got his horse, to go home, sauntering more leisurely along than one would expect of a man who had not got his breakfast, especially one riding a hack hunter.

The truth was, Mr. Sponge did not much like the aspect of affairs. Sir Harry's was evidently a desperately 'fast' house; added to which, the guests by whom he was surrounded were clearly of the wide-awake order, who could not spare any pickings for a stranger. Indeed, Mr. Sponge felt that they rather cold-shouldered him at Farmer Peastraw's, and were in a greater hurry to be off when the drag came, than the mere difference between inside and outside seats required. He much questioned whether he got into Sir Harry's at all. If it came to a vote, he thought he should not. Then, what was he to do? Old Jog was clearly tired of him; and he had nowhere else to go to. The thought made him stick spurs into the chestnut, and hurry home to Puddingpote Bower, where he endeavoured to soothe his host by more than insinuating that he was going on a visit to Nonsuch House. Jog inwardly prayed that he might.

CHAPTER LVII

THE DEBATE

It was just as Mr. Sponge predicted with regard to his admission to Nonsuch House. The first person who spied his note to Sir Harry Scattercash was Captain Seedeybuck, who, going into the drawing-room, the day after Mr.

Sponge's visit, to look for the top of his cigar-case, saw it occupying the centre of the mantelpiece. Having mastered its contents, the Captain refolded and placed it where he found it, with the simple observation to himself of--'That c.o.c.k won't fight.'

Captain Quod saw it next, then Captain Bouncey, who told Captain Cut.i.tfat what was in it, who agreed with Bouncey that it wouldn't do to have Mr.

Sponge there.

Indeed, it seemed agreed on all hands that their party rather wanted weeding than increasing.

Thus, in due time, everybody in the house knew the contents of the note save Sir Harry, though none of them thought it worth while telling him of it. On the third morning, however, as the party were a.s.sembling for breakfast, he came into the room reading it.

'This (hiccup) note ought to have been delivered before,' observed he, holding it up.

'Indeed, my dear,' replied Lady Scattercash, who was sitting gloriously fine and very beautiful at the head of the table, 'I don't know anything about it.'

'Who is it from?' asked brother Bob Spangles.

'Mr. (hiccup) Sponge,' replied Sir Harry.

'What a name!' exclaimed Captain Seedeybuck.

'Who is he?' asked Captain Quod.

'Don't know,' replied Sir Harry; 'he writes to (hiccup) about the hounds.'

'Oh, it'll be that brown-booted buffer,' observed Captain Bouncey, 'that we left at old Peastraw's.'

'No doubt,' a.s.sented Captain Cut.i.tfat, adding, 'what business has he with the hounds?'

'He wants to know when we are going to (hiccup) again,' observed Sir Harry.

'Does he?' replied Captain Seedeybuck. 'That, I suppose, will depend upon Watchorn.'

The party now got settled to breakfast, and as soon as the first burst of appet.i.te was appeased, the conversation again turned upon our friend Mr.

Sponge.

'Who _is_ this Mr. Sponge?' asked Captain Bouncey, the billiard-marker, with the air of a thorough exclusive.

n.o.body answered.

'Who's your friend?' asked he of Sir Harry direct.

'Don't know,' replied Sir Harry, from between the mouthfuls of a highly cayenned grill.

'P'raps a bolting betting-office keeper,' suggested Captain Ladofwax, who hated Captain Bouncey.

'He looks more like a glazier, I think,' retorted Captain Bouncey, with a look of defiance at the speaker.

'Lucky if he is one,' retorted Captain Ladofwax, reddening up to the eyes; 'he may have a chance of repairing somebody's daylights.' The captain raising his saucer, to discharge it at his opponent's head.

'Gently with the cheney!' exclaimed Lady Scattercash, who was too much used to such scenes to care about the belligerents. Bob Spangles caught Ladofwax's arm at the nick of time, and saved the saucer.

'Hout! you (hiccup) fellows are always (hiccup)ing,' exclaimed Sir Harry.

'I declare I'll have you both (hiccup)ed over to keep the peace.'

They then broke out into wordy recrimination and abuse, each declaring that he wouldn't stay a day longer in the house if the other remained; but as they had often said so before, and still gave no symptoms of going, their a.s.sertion produced little effect upon anybody. Sir Harry would not have cared if all his guests had gone together. Peace and order being at length restored, the conversation again turned upon Mr. Sponge.

'I suppose we must have another (hiccup) hunt soon,' observed Sir Harry.

'In course,' replied Bob Spangles; 'it's no use keeping the hungry brutes unless you work them.'

'You'll have a bagman, I presume,' observed Captain Seedeybuck, who did not like the trouble of travelling about the country to draw for a fox.

'Oh yes,' replied Sir Harry; 'Watchorn will manage all that. He's always (hiccup) in that line. We'd better have a hunt soon, and then, Mr. (hiccup) Bugles, you can see it.' Sir Harry addressing himself to a gentleman he was as anxious to get rid of as Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey was to get rid of Mr.

Sponge.'

'No; Mr. Bugles won't go out any more,' replied Lady Scattercash peremptorily. 'He was nearly killed last time'; her ladys.h.i.+p casting an angry glance at her husband, and a very loving one on the object of her solicitude.

'Oh, nought's never in danger!' observed Bob Spangles.

'Then _you_ can go, Bob,' snapped his sister.