112 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 



" Why, not much — that's to say, nothing particular — I mean, 

 I've not had any," blurted Sponge. 



" But you've had a run ? " observed Jawleyford, pointing to his 

 boots and breeches, stained with the variation of each soil. 



"Ah, I got most of that going to cover," replied Sponge ; 

 " country's awfully deep, roads abominably dirty ; " adding, " 1 

 wish I'd taken your advice, and stayed at home." 



" I wish you had," replied Jawleyford, " you'd have had a most 

 excellent rabbit-pie for luncheon. However, get changed, and we 

 will hear all about it after." So saying, Jawleyford waved an 

 adieu, and Sponge stamped away in his dirty wafer-logged boots. 



" I'm afraid you are very wet, Mr. Sponge," observed Amelia 

 in the sweetest tone, with the most loving smile possible, as our 

 friend, with three steps at a time, bounded up-stairs, and nearly 

 butted her on the landing, as she was on the point of coming 

 down. 



" I am that," exclaimed Sponge, delighted at the greeting ; " I 

 am that," repeated he, slapping his much-stained cords ; " dirty, 

 too," added he, looking down at his nether man. 



" Hadn't you better get changed as quick as possible ? " asked 

 Amelia, still keeping her position before him. 



" Oh ! all in good time," replied Sponge, " all in good time. 

 The sight of you warms me more than a fire would do ; " adding, 

 " I declare you look quite bewitching, after all the roughings and 

 tumblings about out of doors." 



" Oh ! you've not had a fall, have you ? " exclaimed Amelia, 

 looking the picture of despair ; " you've not had a fall, have you ? 

 Do send for the doctor, and be bled." 



Just then a door along the passage to the left opened ; and 

 Amelia, knowing pretty well who it was, smiled and tripped away, 

 leaving Sponge to be bled or not as he thought proper. 



Our hero then made for his bed-room, where, having sucked off 

 his adhesive boots, and divested himself of the rest of his hunting 

 attire, he wrapped himself up in his grey flannel dressing-gown, and 

 prepared for parboiling his legs and feet, amid agreeable anticipa- 

 tions arising out of the recent interview, and occasional references 

 to his old friend " Mogg," whenever he did not see his way on the 

 matrimonial road as clearly as he could wish. " She'll have me, 

 that's certain," observed he. 



" Curse the water ! how hot it is ! " exclaimed he, catching his 

 foot up out of the bath, into which he had incautiously plunged it 

 without ascertaining the temperature of the water. He then 

 sluiced it with cold, and next had to add a little more hot ; at 

 last he got it to his mind, and lighting a cigar, prepared for un- 

 interrupted enjoyment. 



"Gad!" said he, "she's by no means a bad-looking girl" 



