But we will suppose our friend to be located in
some hunting district, and accordingly his groom visits him with
tidings. "Is it freezing now?" he asks from under the bedclothes.
And even the man who does like it at such moments almost wishes
that the answer should be plainly in the affirmative. Then
swiftly again to the arms of Morpheus he might take himself, and
ruffle his temper no further on that morning! He desires, at any
rate, a decisive answer. To be or not to be as regards that day's
hurting is what he now wants to know. But that is exactly what
the groom cannot tell him. " It's just a thin crust of frost,
sir, and the s'mometer is a standing at the pint." That is the
answer which the man makes, and on that he has to come to a
decision! For half an hour he lies doubting while his water is
getting cold, and then sends for his man again. The thermometer
is still standing at the point, but the man has tried the crust
with his heel and found it to be very thin. The man who hunts and
likes it scorns his ease, and resolves that he will at any rate
persevere. He tumbles into his tub, and a little before nine
comes out to his breakfast, still doubting sorely whether or no
the day "will do." There he, perhaps, meets one or two others
like himself, and learns that the men who hunt and don't like it
are still warm in their beds.
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