MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 79 



" No,'' replied Sponge ; " uo ; merely an acquaintance. We 

 met at Laverick Wells, and he pressed me to come and see him." 



" Indeed ! " said Watson, feeling at ease again. 



" Who did you live with before you came here ? " asked Mr. 

 Sponge, after a pause. 



" I lived many years — the greater part of my life, indeed — with 

 Sir Harry Swift. He was a real gentleman now, if you like — 

 free, open-handed gentleman — none of your close shavin', cheese- 

 parin' sort of gentlemen, or imitation gentlemen, as I calls them, 

 but a man who knew what was due to good servants and gave 

 them it. We had good wages, and all the proper 'reglars.' Bless 

 you, I could sell a new suit of clothes there every year, instead of 

 having to wear the last keeper's cast-offs, and a hat that would 

 disgrace anything but a flay-crow. If the linin' wasn't stuffed 

 full of gun waddin' it would be over my nose," he observed, 

 taking it off and adjusting the layer of wadding as he spoke. 



" You should have stuck to Sir Harry," observed Mr. Sponge. 



" I did,"" rejoined Watson, " I did, I stuck to him to the last. 

 I'd have been with him now, only he couldn't get a manor at 

 Boulogne, and a keeper was of no use without one." 



" What, he went to Boulogne, did he ? " observed Mr. Sponge. 



" Aye, the more's the pity," replied Watson. " He was a 

 gentleman, every inch of him," he added, with a shake of the head 

 and a sigh, as if recurring to more prosperous times. " He was 

 what a gentleman ought to be," he continued, " not one of your 

 poor, pryin', inquisitive critturs, what's always fancyin' themselves 

 cheated. I ordered everything in my department, and paid for it 

 too ; and never had a bill disputed or even commented on. I might 

 have charged for a ton of powder, and never had nothin' said." 



" Mr. Jawleyford's not likely to find his way to Boulogne, I 

 suppose ? " observed Mr. Sponge. 



" Not he ! " exclaimed Watson, " not he ! — safe bird — very." 



" He's rich, I suppose ? " continued Sponge, with an air of 

 indifference. 



" Why, / should say he was ; though others say he's not," 

 replied Watson, cropping the old pony with the dog-whip, as it 

 nearly fell on its nose. " He can't fail to be rich, with all his 

 property ; though they're desperate hands for gaddin' about ; 

 always off to some waterin' place or another, lookin' for husbands, 

 I suppose. I wonder," he continued, " that gentlemen can't settle 

 at home, and amuse themselves with coursin' and shootin'." Mr. 

 Watson, like many servants, thinking that the bulk of a gentleman's 

 income should be spent in promoting the particular sport over 

 which they preside. 



With this and similar discourse, they beguiled the short distance 

 between the station and the Court — a distance, however, that 



