CHAPTER XX.
THE F.H.H.
Nor was Sponge wrong in his conjecture, for it was a quarter to nine ere Spigot appeared with the massive silver urn, followed by the train-band bold, bearing the heavy implements of breakfast.

Then, though the young ladies were punctual, smiling, and affable as usual, Mrs.Jawleyford was absent, and she had the keys; so it was nearly nine before Mr.Sponge got his fork into his first mutton chop.

Jawleyford was not exactly pleased; he thought it didn't look well for a young man to prefer hunting to the society of his lovely and accomplished daughters.

Hunting was all very well occasionally, but it did not do to make a business of it.

This, however, he kept to himself.
'You'll have a fine day, my dear Mr.Sponge,' said he, extending a hand, as he found our friend brown-booted and red-coated, working away at the breakfast.
'Yes,' said Sponge, munching away for hard life.