MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 373 



reflection on herself, "it's all you'll get;" and thereupon she gave 

 the back of the chair a hearty bastinadoing as if in exemplification 

 of the way she would like to serve Mr. Sponge out for the observation. 



" I came here thinking to get some breakfast," observed Mr. 

 Sponge, casting an eye upon the disordered table, and recon- 

 noitring the bottles and the remains of the dessert. 



" Did you," said the woman ; " I wish you may get it." 



" I w r ish I may," replied he. " If you would manage that for 

 me, just some coffee and a mutton chop or two, I'd remember you," 

 said he, still tantalising her with the sound of the silver in his pocket. 



" Me manish it ! " exclaimed the woman, her hopes again rising 

 at the sound ; " me manish it ! how d'ye think I'm to manish 

 sich things ? " asked she. 



" Why, get at the cook, or the housekeeper, or somebody," replied 

 Mr. Sponge. 



" Cook or housekeeper ! " exclaimed she. " There'll be no cook 

 or housekeeper astir here these many hours yet ; I question," added 

 she, " they get up to-day." 



" What ! they've been put to bed too, have they ? " asked he. 



" W-h-y no — not zactly that," drawled the woman ; " but when 

 sarvants are kept up three nights out of four, they must make up 

 for lost time when they can." 



"Well," mused Mr. Sponge, "this is a bother, at all events ; 

 get no breakfast, lose my hunt, and perhaps a billet into the 

 bargain. Well, there's sixpence for you, my good woman," said he 

 at length, drawing his hand out of his pocket and handing her the 

 contents through the window ; adding, " don't make a beast of 

 yourself with it." 



" It's nahhut /oia-pencc," observed the woman, holding it out on 

 the palm of her hand. 



"Ah, well, you're welcome to it whatever it is," replied our 

 friend, turning his horse to go away. A thought then struck him. 

 " Could you get me a pen and ink, think you ? " asked he ; " I 

 want to write a line to Sir Harry." 



"Pen and ink!" replied the woman, who had pocketed the 

 groat and resumed her dusting ; " I don't know where they keep 

 no such things as penses and inkses." 



"Most likely in the drawing-room or the sitting-room, or 

 perhaps in the butler's pantry," observed Mr. Sponge. 



" Well, you can come in and see," replied the woman, thinking 

 there was no occasion to give herself any more trouble for the four- 

 penny-piece. 



Our worthy friend sat on his horse a few seconds staring intently 

 into the dining-room window, thinking that lapse of time might 

 cause the fourpenny-piece to be sufficiently respected to procure 

 him something like directions how to proceed as well to get rid of 



