MR. SPONGE'S SFORTIXG TOUR. 113 



towards her with extended hand, which she took with all the 

 pleasure in the world ; adding, " And how have you heen ? " 



" Oh, pretty well, thank you, 1 ' replied she, looking as though 

 she would have said, " As well as I can be without you." 



Sponge, though a consummate judge of a horse, and all the 

 minutiae connected with them, was still rather green in the matter 

 of woman ; and having settled in his own mind that Amelia should 

 be his choice, he concluded that Emily knew all about it, and was 

 working on her sister's account, instead of doing the agreeable for 

 herself. And there it is where elder sisters have such an advan- 

 tage over younger ones. They arc always shown, or contrive to 

 show themselves, first ; and if a man once makes up his mind that 

 the elder one will do, there is an end of the matter ; and it is 

 neither a deeper shade or two of blue, nor a brighter tinge of 

 brown, nor a little smaller foot, nor a more elegant waist, that 

 will make him change for a younger sister. The younger ones 

 immediately become sisters in the men's minds, and retire, or arc 

 retired, from the field — "scratched," as Sponge would say. 



Amelia, however, was not going to give Emily a chance ; for, 

 having dressed with all the expedition compatible with an attractive 

 toilet — a lavender-coloured satin with broad black lace flounces, 

 and some heavy jewellery on her well-turned arms, she came sidling 

 in so gently as almost to catch Emily in the act of playing the 

 agreeable. Turning the sidle into a stately sail, with a haughty 

 sort of sneer and toss of the head to her sister, as much as to say, 

 "What arc you doing with my man ? " — a sneer that suddenly 

 changed into a sweet smile as her eye encountered Sponge's — she 

 just motioned him off to a sofa, where she commenced a soito voce 

 conversation in the engaged-couple style. 



The plot then began to thicken. First came Jawleyford, in a 

 terrible stew. 



"Well, this is too bad ! " exclaimed he, stamping and flourish- 

 ing a scented note, with a crest and initials at the top. "This is 

 too bad," repeated he ; " people accepting invitations, and then 

 crying off at the last moment." 



" Who is it can't come, papa — the Foozles ? " asked Emily. 



" No — Foozles be hanged," sneered Jawleyford ; " they always 

 come — the Blossomnoscs ! " replied he, with an emphasis. 



" The Blossomnoses ! " exclaimed both girls, clasping their 

 hands and looking up at the ceiling. 



" What, all of them ? " asked Emily. 



" All of them,'''' rejoined Jawleyford. 



" Why, that's four," observed Emily. 



"To be sure it is," replied Jawleyford; "live, if you count 

 them by appetites ; for old Blossom always eats and drinks as 

 much as two people." 



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