AN EXCUSE FOR THE FOX.
(The Fox having been repeatedly headed back into cover, the Noble Master rides up to ascertain the cause.)
Exasperated Huntsman (pointing to Old Lady, with withering contempt).—Why, my Lord, what could face that?
WELL MEANT.
Highly elated little Gent.—Now then, Miss, I’ll give yer a lead hover. Come hup, Donovan! Hin or Hover!
