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Full text of "TheCompleteMemoirsOfGeorgeSherston"

a bunch of violets in his buttonhole. H5s friendliness
revived my spirits, and he seemed to regard Jaggett
and Pomfret as an excellent joke. " It's as good as
a play when they start slanging one another/' he
said, eyeing their clumsy backs as they tit-tupped
along.

He then told me, in an undertone, to keep pretty
wideawake to-day, as he'd heard that old Warder'd
got something up his sleeve. He winked expressively.
"I hear they've had one or two very queertey.es> lately,"
he added. I wasn't sure what he meant, but I nodded
sagaciously.

Nothing exciting happened, however, at the first
covert. In accordance with his usual habit, the
huntsman got off his horse and plunged into the
undergrowth on foot.

"They say the old boy's got a better nose than any
of his hounds/' someone remarked.

In spite of my anxiety to avoid him, I found myself
standing close behind Jaggett, who was bragging
about a wonderful day he'd had "up at Melton" the
week before. But I was feeling more at my ease now,
and I was expressing this by swinging the lash of my
crop lightly to and fro. The result was appalling.
Somehow the end of it arrived at the rump ofJaggett's
roan mare; with nervous adriotness she tucked in her
tail with my lash under it. She then began kicking,
and in my efforts to dislodge the lash I found myself
"playing" Jaggett and his horse like a huge fish. The
language which followed may be imagined, and I was
flabbergasted with confusion at my clumsiness. When
I had extricated my thong and the uproar had sub-
sided to a series of muttered imprecations, I retreated*

To my surprise Mr. Gaffikin came up and con-
gratulated me admiringly on the way I had "pulled

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