on, 'their father is one of them
tight-laced candlestick priests wot abhors all sorts of wice and
himmorality, and won't stand card playin', or gamblin', or nothin' o' that
sort, so the young ladies when they want to settle a point, who's to be
married first, or who's to have the richest 'usband, play fly loo. 'Sposing
it's at breakfast time, they all sit quiet and sober like round the table,
lookin' as if butter wouldn't melt in their mouths, and each has a lump o'
sugar on her plate, or by her cup, or somewhere, and whoever can 'tice a
fly to come to her sugar first, wins the wager, or whatever it is they play
for.'

'Five on 'em,' as Leather said, being a hopeless number to extract any good
from, Mr. Sponge changed the subject by giving orders for the morrow.

Mr. Sponge's appearance being decidedly of the sporting order, and his
horses maintaining the character, did not alleviate the agitated minds of
the sporting beholders, ruffled as they were with the threatening,
vapouring insinuations of the coachman-groom, Peter Leather. There is
nothing sets men's backs up so readily, as a hint that any one is coming to
take the 'shine' out of them across country. We have known the most deadly
feuds engendered between parties who never spoke to each other by adroit
go-betweens reporting to each what the other said, or, perhaps, did not
say, but what the 'go-betweens' knew would so rouse the British lion as to
make each ride to destruction if necessary.

'He's a varmint-looking chap,' observed Mr. Waffles, as the party returned
from the railway station; 'shouldn't wonder if he can go--dare say he'll
try--shouldn't wonder if he's floored--awfully stiff country this for
horses that are not used to it--most likely his are Leicestershire nags,
used to fly--won't do here. If he attempts to take some of our big banked
bullfinches in his stride, with a yawner on each side, will get into
grief.'

'Hang him,' interrupted Caingey Thornton, 'there are good men in all
countries.'

'So there are!' exclaimed Mr. Spareneck, the steeple-chase rider.

'I've no notion of a fellow lording it, because he happens to come out of
Leicestershire,' rejoined Mr. Thornton.

'Nor I!' exclaimed Mr. Spareneck.

'Why doesn't he stay in Leicestershire?' asked Mr. Hoppey, now raising his
voice for the first time--adding, 'Who asked him here?'

'Who, indeed?' sneered Mr. Thornton.

In this mood our friends arrived at the Imperial Hotel, where there