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Updated: May 5, 2025
Washball had a headache, so had Lumpleg; Crane was seedy; and Captain Guano, sea-green. Soda-water was in great request. There was a splendid breakfast, table and sideboard looking as if Fortnum and Mason or Morel had opened a branch establishment at Hanby House.
Sponge thought of letting Tom Washball enjoy the honours of his faux-pas, and of sneaking quietly home as soon as the hounds hit off the scent; but unluckily, just as they were crossing the lane, what should heave in sight, cantering along at his leisure, but the redoubtable Multum in Parvo, who, having got rid of old Leather by bumping and thumping his leg against a gate-post, was enjoying a line of his own.
'Oh, d n me! that man in the lane's headed the fox, puffed one. 'Who is it? gasped another. 'Tom Washball! exclaimed a third. 'Heads more foxes than any man in the country, puffed a fourth. 'Always nicking and skirting, exclaimed a fifth. 'Never comes to the meet, added a sixth. 'Come on a cow to-day, observed another.
No day too long for him no pace too great for him no fence too stiff for him no brook too broad for him. Tom Washball, too, talked as if wearing a red coat was not the only purpose for which he hunted; and altogether they seemed to be an amazing, sporting, hard-riding set.
Again, a little nearer, were some of the persevering ones men who still hold on in the forlorn hopes of a check all dark-coated, and mostly trousered. Then came the last of the red-coats Tom Washball, Charley Joyce, and Sam Sloman, riding well in the first flight of second horsemen his lordship's pad-groom, Mr. Fossick's man in drab with a green collar, Mr.
Tom Washball, who was riding a very troublesome tail-foremost grey, also censured the proceeding. And Mr.
Bragg was one of those people that one occasionally meets whom everybody 'Misters. Mister Bragg, rising in his stirrups with a gracious smile, passed a very polite bow along the line. 'Here's a fine morning, Mr. Bragg, observed Tom Washball, who thought it knowing to talk to servants.
Slade, of Three-Burrow Hill; and several others. Great was the astonishment of each as the other cast up. 'Why, here's Joe Reeves! exclaimed Blossomnose. 'Who'd have thought of seeing you? 'And who'd have thought of seeing you? rejoined Reeves, shaking hands with the jolly old nose. 'Here's Tom Washball in time for once, I declare! exclaimed Mr. Fyle, as Mr.
The field, as usual, divided into two parts, the soft riders and the hard ones the soft riders going by the fields, the hard riders by the road. Messrs. Spraggon, Sponge, Slapp, Quilter, Rasper, Crasher, Smasher, and some half-dozen more, bustled after Bragg; while the worthy master Mr. Puffington, Lumpleg, Washball, Crane, Guano, Shirker, and very many others, came pounding along the lane.
'What's that? he muttered sharply, and listened for a second or two. It was only one of the children crying in the nursery. The sound subsided. So with another long silent step, he stood by the capriole-legged old mahogany table, with the scallop shell containing a piece of soap and a washball, and the basin with its jug of water standing therein.
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