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With this wise resolution he jumped out of bed with the vigorous determination of a man about to take a shower-bath, and proceeded to invest himself in the only mitigating features of the chace, the red coat and leathers. He was hardly well in them before a clamorous bell rang for breakfast, quickly followed by a knock at the door, announcing that it was on the table.
Sir Moses was always in a deuce of a hurry on a hunting morning. Our hero was then presently performing the coming downstairs feat he is represented doing at page 147. and on reaching the lower regions he jumped in with a dish of fried ham which led him straight to the breakfast room.
Here Sir Moses was doing all things at once, reading the “Post,” blowing his beak, making the tea, stirring the fire, crumpling his envelopes, cussing the toast, and doming the footman, to which numerous avocations he now added the pleasing one of welcoming our Billv.
“Well done you! First down, I do declare!” exclaimed he, tendering him his left hand, his right one being occupied with his kerchief. “Sit down, and let’s be at it,” continued he, kicking a rush-bottomed chair under Billy as it were, adding “never wait for any man on a hunting morning.” So saying, he proceeded to snatch an egg, in doing which he upset the cream-jug. “Dom the thing,” growled he, “what the deuce do they set it there for. D’ye take tea?” now asked he, pointing to the tea-pot with his knife—“or coffee?” continued he, pointing to the coffee-pot with his fork, “or both praps,” added he, without waiting for an answer to either question, but pushing both pots towards his guest, following up the advance with ham, eggs, honey, buns, butter, bread, toast, jelly, everything within reach, until he got Billy fairly blocked with good things, when he again set-to on his own account, munching and crunching, and ended by nearly dragging all the contents of the table on to the floor by catching the cloth with his spur as he got up to go away.
He then went doming and scuttling out of the room, charging Billy if he meant to go with the hounds to “look sharp.”
During his absence Stephen Booty and Mr. Silverthorn came dawdling into the room, taking it as easy as men generally do who have their horses on and don’t care much about hunting.
Indeed Silverthorn never disguised that he would rather have his covers under plough than under gorse, and was always talking about the rent he lost, which he estimated at two pounds an acre, and Sir Moses at ten shillings.
Finding the coast clear, they now rang for fresh ham, fresh eggs, fresh tea, fresh everything, and then took to pumping Billy as to his connection with the house, Sir Moses having made him out over night to be a son of Sir Jonathan Pringle’s, with whom he sometimes claimed cousinship, and they wanted to get a peep at the baronetage if they could. In the midst of their subtle examination, Sir Moses came hurrying back, whip in one hand, hat in the other, throwing open the door, with, “Now, are you ready?” to Billy, and “morning, gentlemen,” to Booty and Silverthorn.