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'Won't ride, won't he? asked the Captain. 'Not if he can help it, replied George, adding, 'but he's such a shocking huntsman never saw such a huntsman in all my life. George's experience lay between his Uncle Jellyboy, who rode eighteen stone and a half, Tom Scramble, the pedestrian huntsman of the Slowfoot hounds, near Mr. Latherington's, and Mr. Watchorn.
'My Uncle Jellyboy wouldn't let such a frost stop him, I know, observed the boy. 'Who's your Uncle Jellyboy? asked Miss Glitters. 'He's a farmer, and keeps a few harriers at Scutley, observed Bob Spangles, sotto voce.
Is there anything I can do for you, Mr ?" "Smythe, sir, is my name," replied the other. "I am the ah chaplain." "So I see, sir," said Joe, drily, glancing at his canonicals. "Glad to have the pleasure of making your acquaintance, Mr Smith." "`Smythe, that is `Smith' with a final `e, if you please," corrected the reverend gentleman in a plaintive tone. "My name is not `Smith, Mr Jellyboy."
"Nor is mine Jellyboy, Mr Smythe," retorted "Joe," laughing outright at the comical situation. "We've both made a mistake, Mr Smythe; and I apologise for mine. But, is there anything I can do for you, sir?" "Well," hesitated the other, "I want, you know, to hold a service, you know ah, and "