392 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 



"Well, then, I'll play you me oncle's favourite tunc, 'The Merry 

 Swiss Boy,' " whereupon Facey set to most vigorously "with that 

 once most popular air. It, however, came off as rustily as " Jim 

 Crow," for whose feats Facey evidently had a partiality ; for no 

 sooner did he get squeaked through " me oncle's " tune than he 

 returned to the nigger melody with redoubled zeal, and puffed and 

 blew Sponge's calculations as to what he could ride from " Mother 

 Redcap's at Camden Town down Liquorpond Street, up Snow 

 Hill, and so on, to the "Angel" in Ratcliffe Highway for, clean 

 out of his head. Nor did there seem any prospect of relief, for no 

 sooner did Facey get through one tune than he at the other 

 again. 



" Rot it ! " at length exclaimed Sponge, throwing his " Mogg " 

 from him in despair, "you'll deafen me with that abominable 

 noise." 



" Bless my heart ! " exclaimed Facey, in well-feigned surprise, 

 " Bless my heart ! Why, I thought you liked music, my dear 

 feller ! " adding, " I was playin' to please you." 



"The deuce you were! " snapped Mr. Sponge, "I wish Fd 

 known sooner : I'd have saved you a deal of wind." 



" Why, my dear feller," replied Facey, "I wished to entertain you 

 the best in my power. One must do somethin', you know." 



" I'd rather do anything than undergo that horrid noise," 

 replied Sponge, ringing his left ear with his fore-finger. 



" Let's have a game at cards, then," rejoined Facey, soothingly, 

 seeing he had sufficiently agonised Sponge. 



" Cards," replied Mr. Sponge. " Cards," repeated he, thought- 

 fully, stroking his hairy chin. " Cards," added he, for the third 

 time, as he conned Facey's rotund visage, and wondered if he was 

 a sharper. If the cards were fair, Sponge didn't care trying his 

 luck. It all depended upon that. " Well," said he, in a tone of 

 indifference, as he picked up his " Mogg," thinking he wouldn't 

 pay if he lost, " I'll give you a turn. What shall it be ? " 



" Oh — w-h-o-y — s'pose we say ecarte ? " replied Facey, in an 

 off-hand sort of way. 



" Well," drawled Sponge, pocketing his " Mogg," preparatory 

 to action. 



" You haven't a clean pack, have you ? " asked Sponge, as 

 Facey, diving into a drawer, produced a very dirty, thumb-marked 

 set. 



" W-h-o-y, no, I haven't," replied Facey. " W-h-o-y, no I 

 haven't : but, honour bright, these arc all right and fair. Wouldn't 

 cheat a man, if it was ever so." 



" Sure you wouldn't," replied Sponge, nothing comforted by 

 the assertion. 



They then resumed their seats opposite each other at the little 



