A dazzling sun was going down with a blood-red glare, and the partially softened ground was fast resuming its fretwork of frost, as our hero and heroine were seen sauntering up the western avenue to Nonsuch House, as slowly and quietly as if it had been the hottest evening in summer.
‘Here’s old Coppertops!’ exclaimed Captain Seedeybuck, as, turning round in the billiard-room to chalk his cue, he espied them crawling along. ‘And Lucy!’ added he, as he stood watching them.
‘How slowly they come!’ observed Bob Spangles, going to the window.
‘Must have tired their horses,’ suggested Captain Quod.
‘Just the sort of man to tire a horse,’ rejoined Bob Spangles.
‘Hate that Sponge,’ observed Captain Cutitfat.
‘So do I,’ replied Captain Quod.
‘Well, never mind the beggar! It’s you to play!’ exclaimed Bob Spangles to Captain Seedeybuck.
But Lady Scattercash, who was observing our friends from her boudoir window, saw with a woman’s eye that there was something more than a mere case of tired horses; and, tripping downstairs she arrived at the front door just as the fair Lucy dropped smilingly from her horse into Mr Sponge’s extended arms. Hurrying up into the boudoir, Lucy gave her ladyship one of Mr Sponge’s modified kisses, revealing the truth more eloquently than words could convey.
‘Oh,’ Lady Scattercash was ‘so glad!’ ‘so delighted!’ ‘so charmed!’
Mr Sponge was such a nice man, and so rich. She was sure he was rich -- couldn’t hunt if he wasn’t. Would advise Lucy to have a good settlement, in case he broke his neck. And pin-money! pin-money was most useful; no husband ever let his wife have enough money. Must forget all about Harry Dacre and Charley Brown, and the swell in the Blues. Must be prudent for the future. Mr Sponge would never know anything of the past. Then she reverted to the interesting subject of settlements. ‘What had Mr Sponge got, and what would he do?’ This Lucy couldn’t tell. ‘What! hadn’t he told her where his estates were?’ -- ‘No.’ ‘Well, was his dad dead?’ This Lucy didn’t know either. They had got no further than the tender prop. ‘Ah! well; would get it all out of him by degrees.’ And with the reiteration of her ‘so glads,’ and the repayment of the kiss Lucy had advanced, her ladyship advised her to get off her habit and make herself comfortable, while she ran downstairs to communicate the astonishing intelligence to the party below.
‘What d’ye think?’ exclaimed she, bursting into the billiard-room, where the party were still engaged in a game at pool, all our sportsmen, except Captain Cutitfat, who still sported his new Moses and Son’s scarlet, having divested themselves of their hunting-gear -- ‘What d’ye think?’ exclaimed she, darting into the middle of them.
‘That Bob don’t cannon?’ observed Captain Bouncey from below the bandage that encircled his broken head, nodding towards Bob Spangles, who was just going to make a stroke.
‘That Wax is out of limbo?’ suggested Captain Seedeybuck, in the same breath.
‘No. Guess again!’ exclaimed Lady Scattercash, rubbing her hands in high glee.
‘That the Pope’s got a son?’ observed Captain Quod.
‘No. Guess again!’ exclaimed her ladyship, laughing.
‘I give it up,’ replied Captain Bouncey.