I told him it was utterly impossible to think of hunting, but he says he must have his orders from you.

I should say,' added Jawleyford, 'it is _quite_ out of the question--madness to think of it; much better in the house, such weather.' 'I don't know that,' replied Sponge, 'the rain's come down, and though the country will ride heavy, I don't see why we shouldn't have sport after it.' 'But the glass is falling, and the wind's gone round the wrong way; the moon changed this morning--everything, in short, indicates continued wet,' replied Jawleyford.

'The rivers are all swollen, and the low grounds under water; besides, my dear fellow, consider the distance--consider the distance; sixteen miles, if it's a yard.' 'What, Dundleton Tower!' exclaimed Sponge, recollecting that Jawleyford had said it was only ten the night before.
'Sixteen miles, and bad road,' replied Jawleyford.
'The deuce it is!' muttered Sponge; adding, 'Well, I'll go and see my groom, at all events.' So saying, he rang the bell as if the house was his own, and desired Spigot to show him the way to his servant.
Leather, of course, was in the servants' hall, refreshing himself with cold meat and ale, after his ride up from Lucksford.
Finding that he had ridden the hack up, he desired Leather to leave him there.

'Tell the groom I _must_ have him put up,' said Sponge; 'and you ride the chestnut on in the morning.

How far is it to Dundleton Tower ?' asked he.
'Twelve or thirteen miles, they say, from here,' replied Leather; 'nine or ten from Lucksford.' 'Well, that'll do,' said Sponge; 'you tell the groom here to have the hack saddled for me at nine o'clock, and you ride Multum in Parvo quietly on, either to the meet or till I overtake you.' 'But how am I to get back to Lucksford ?' asked Leather, cocking up a foot to show how thinly he was shod.
'Oh, just as you can,' replied Sponge; 'get the groom here to set you down with his master's hacks.