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But the worst of it was that though they were not heading for their good country, still there was the brook, Pugsby brook, to be taken. Had the fox done as he ought to have done, and made for Pugsby itself, the leap would have been from grass to grass; but now it must be from plough to plough, if taken at all. It need hardly be said that the two things are very different.
There is only one fence between this and that, a biggish ditch, with a bit of a hedge on this side, but it's nothing to the horses when they're fresh." "Mine's quite fresh." "Then they mostly turn to the right for Pugsby; nothing but grass then for four miles a-head." "And the jumping?" "All fair.
People who can't love children more than you do, ought never to have 'em. "No more do I much; but what's that to do with it? People who've their families to provide for, mustn't think of their feelings. I don't like him; but then I'm a mother, and love my baby. "Ha, Caudle, you're like nobody else not fit for this world, you're not. "What do you think of Pugsby?
"He'll be back in them Manor Cross woods. You'll see else." The park of Manor Cross lay to the left of them, whereas Pugsby and the desirable grass country away to Bamham Moor were all to the right. Some men mindful of the big brook and knowing the whereabouts of the bridge, among whom was Mr. Houghton, kept very much to the right and were soon out of the run altogether.
There's one bit of water, Pugsby Brook, that you ought to have as he'll be sure to cross it ever so much above the bridge. But, lord love you, Mrs. Houghton, that horse'll think nothing of the brook." "Nothing at all, Mr. Price. I like brooks." "I'm afraid he's not here, Price," said Sir Simon, trotting round the cover towards the whip, who was stationed at the further end.
I only know that he hasn't chick or child; and, besides that, he's very strong interest in the Blue-coats; and so, if Pugsby Now, don't fly out at the man in that manner. Caudle, you ought to be ashamed of yourself! You can't speak well of anybody. Where DO you think to go to? "What do you say, then, to Sniggins? Now, don't bounce round in that way, letting the cold air into the bed!
Price had been going a little to the left, and when they reached the wood was as forward as any one. "He won't hang here, Sir Simon," said the farmer, as the master came up, "he never does." "He's only a cub," said the master. "The holt cubs this time of the year are nigh as strong as old foxes. Now for Pugsby." Mrs. Houghton looked round, fearing every moment that her husband would come up.
"Well, I can hardly tell you, if you won't have Wagstaff, or Pugsby, or Sniggins, or Goldman, or somebody that's respectable, to do what's proper, the child sha'n't be christened at all. As for Prettyman, or any such raff no, never! I'm sure there's a certain set of people that poverty's catching from, and that Prettyman's one of 'em.
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