A FAMILY BREAKFAST
'Twere almost superfluous to say that NEW YEAR'S DAY is always a
great holiday. It is a day on which custom commands people to be happy and
idle, whether they have the means of being happy and idle or not. It is a
day for which happiness and idleness are 'booked,' and parties are planned
and arranged long beforehand. Some go to the town, some to the country;
some take rail; some take steam; some take greyhounds; some take gigs;
while others take guns and pop at all the little dicky-birds that come in
their way. The rural population generally incline to a hunt. They are not
very particular as to style, so long as there are a certain number of
hounds, and some men in scarlet, to blow their horns, halloo, and crack
their whips.
The population, especially the rising population about Nonsuch House, all
inclined that way. A New Year's Day's hunt with Sir Harry had long been
looked forward to by the little Raws, and the little Spooneys, and the big
and little Cheeks, and we don't know how many others. Nay, it had been
talked of by the elder boys at their respective schools--we beg pardon,
academies--Dr. Switchington's, Mr. Latherington's, Mrs. Skelper's, and a
liberal allowance of boasting indulged in, as to how they would show each
other the way over the hedges and ditches. The thing had long been talked
of. Old Johnny Raw had asked Sir Harry to arrange the day so long ago that
Sir Harry had forgotten all about it. Sir Harry was one of those
good-natured souls who can't say 'No' to any one. If anybody had asked if
they might set fire to his house, he would have said:
'Oh (hiccup) certainly, my dear (hiccup) fellow, if it will give you any
(hiccup) pleasure.'
Now, for the hiccup day.
It is generally a frost on New Year's Day. However wet and sloppy the
weather may be up to the end of the year, it generally turns over a new
leaf on that day. New Year's Day is generally a bright, bitter, sunshiny
day, with starry ice, and a most decided anti-hunting feeling about
it--light, airy, ringy, anything but cheery for hunting.
Thus it was in Sir Harry Scattercash's county. Having smoked and drunk the
old year out, the captains and company retired to their couches without
thinking about hunting. Mr. Sponge, indeed, was about tired of asking when
the hounds would be going out. It was otherwise, however, with the rising
generation, who were up betimes, and began pouring in upon Nonsuch House in
every species of garb, on every description of steed, by every line and
avenue of approach.
'Halloo! what's up now?' exclaimed Lady Scattercash, as she caught view of
the first batch rounding the corner to the front of the house.
'Who have we here?' asked Miss Glitters, as a ponderous, parti-coloured
clown, on a great, curly-coated cart-horse, brought up the rear.
'Early callers,' observed Captain Seedeybuck, eating away complacently.
'Friends of Mr. Sponge's, most likely,' suggested Captain Quod.
'Some of the little Sponges come to see their pa, p'raps,' lisped Miss
Howard, pretending to be shocked after she had said it.
'Bravo, Miss Howard!' exclaimed Captain Cutitfat, clapping his hands.
'_I_ said nothing, Captain,' observed the young lady with becoming prudery.
'Here we are again!' exclaimed Captain Quod, as a troop of various-sized
urchins, in pea-jackets, with blue noses and red comforters, on very shaggy
ponies, the two youngest swinging in panniers over an ass, drew up
alongside of the first comers.
'Whose sliding-scale of innocence is that, I wonder!' exclaimed Miss
Howard, contemplating the variously sized chubby faces through the window.
'He, he, he! ho, ho, ho!' giggled the guests.
Another batch of innocence now hove in sight.
'Oh, those are the little (hiccup) Raws,' observed Sir Harry, catching
sight of the sky-blue collar of the servant's long drab coat. 'Good chap,
old Johnny Raw; ask them to (hiccup) in,' continued he, 'and give them some
(hiccup) cherry brandy'; and thereupon Sir Harry began nodding and smiling,
and making signs to them to come in. The youngsters, however, maintained
their position.
'The little stupexes!' exclaimed Miss Howard, going to the window, and
throwing up the sash. 'Come in, young gents!' cried she, in a commanding
tone, addressing herself to the last comers. 'Come in, and have some toffy
and lollypops! D'ye hear?' continued she, in a still louder voice, and
motioning her head towards the door.
The boys sat mute.
'You little stupid monkeys,' muttered she in an undertone, as the cold air
struck upon her head. 'Come in, like good boys,' added she in a louder key,
pointing with her finger towards the door.
'Nor, thenk ye!' at last drawled the elder of the boys.
'Nor, thenk ye!' repeated Miss Howard, imitating the drawl. 'Why not?'
asked she sharply.
The boy stared stupidly.
'Why won't you come in?' asked she, again addressing him.
'Don't know!' replied the boy, staring vacantly at his younger brother, as
he rubbed a pearl off his nose on the back of his hand.
'Don't know!' ejaculated Miss Howard, stamping her little foot on the
Turkey carpet.
'Mar said we hadn't,' whined the younger boy, coming to the rescue of his
brother.
'Mar said we hadn't!' retorted the fair interrogator. 'Why not?'
'Don't know,' replied the elder.
'Don't know! you little stupid animal,' snapped Miss Howard, the cold air
increasing the warmth of her temper. 'I wonder what you _do_ know. Why did
your ma say you were not to come in?' continued she, addressing the younger
one.
'Because--because,' hesitated he, 'she said the house was full of
trumpets.'
'Trumpets, you little scamp!' exclaimed the lady, reddening up; 'I'll get a
whip and cut your jacket into ribbons on your back.' And thereupon she
banged down the window and closed the conversation.