In the midst of their mirth Mr. Bottleends was seen piloting Mr. Sponge up to her ladyship.
'Mr. Sponge, my lady,' said he in as low and deferential a tone as if he got his wages punctually every quarter-day.
'How do you do. Mr. Sponge?' said her ladyship, tendering him her hand with an elegant curtsey.
'How are you, Mr. (hiccup) Sponge?' asked Sir Harry, offering his; 'I believe you know the (hiccup) company?' continued he, waving his hand around; 'Miss (hiccup) Glitters, Captain (hiccup) Quod, Captain Bouncey, Mr. (hiccup) Bugles, Captain (hiccup) Seedeybuck, and so on'; whereupon Miss Glitters curtsied, the gentlemen bobbed their heads and drew near our hero, who had now stationed himself before the fire.
'Coldish to-night,' said he, stooping, and placing both hands to the bars. 'Coldish,' repeated he, rubbing his hands and looking around.
'It generally is about this time of year, I think,' observed Miss Glitters, who was quite ready to enter for our friend.
'Hope it won't stop hunting,' said Mr. Sponge.
'Hope not,' replied Sir Harry; 'would be a bore if it did.'
'I wonder you gentlemen don't prefer hunting in a frost,' observed Miss Howard; 'one would think it would be just the time you'd want a good warming.'