"Dooce--take me--Tom!" exclaimed this individual, in breathless
reproach. "Your--infernal mug's--hard as--iron!"
"Craggy, my lord!" answered the other hoarsely. "Cragg by name an'
Craggy by natur', my lord!"
Thither my uncle George led me, his spurs jingling, whereupon the
spectators turned to salute him and stare at me, among whom I
recognised my uncle Jervas.
"What, George," enquired one, "ha' you found Jessamy?"
"No!" answered my uncle, slapping me on the shoulder. "But the next
best thing, Devenham--"
"And a demned queer-looking thing it is, George!" added the recumbent
gentleman, viewing me with a pair of blue eyes, one of which exhibited
signs of recent punishment.
"None the less, Jerny," answered uncle George, "it is my nephew.
Gentlemen, I have the honour to present Mr. Peregrine Vereker! Nephew,
in the floored Corinthian with the damaged ogle, you will remark
Richard, Marquis of Jerningham; on my right, Viscount Devenham; on my
left, Sir Peregrine Beverley; before you Major Dashwood, Mr. Wemyss
and your affectionate uncle Jervas. And now, gentlemen all, my nephew
will tell you that he comes fresh from witnessing the defeat of
Jerningham's unfortunate champion The 'Thunderbolt' at the hands of
the unconquerable Jessamy Todd!"
"Aha!" cried the Marquis, springing lightly to his feet and muffling
naked torso in gaudy dressing-gown; and next moment he and the others
were thronged about me vociferous for knowledge.
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