MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 117 



twelve. Sponge pawned Mrs. Jawleyford off upon Robert Foozle, 

 which gave Sponge the right to the fair Amelia, who walked off 

 on his arm with a toss of her head at Emily, as though she 

 thought him the finest, sprightiiest man under the sun. Emily 

 followed, and Jawleyford came sulking in alone, sore put out at 

 the failure of what he meant for the grand entertainment. 



Lights blazed in profusion ; lamps more accustomed had now 

 become better behaved ; and the whole strength of the plate was 

 called in requisition, sadly puzzling the unfortunate cook to find 

 something to put upon the dishes. She, however, was a real 

 magnanimous-minded woman, who would undertake to cook a 

 lord mayor's feast — soups, sweets, joints, entrees, and all. 



Jawleyford was nearly silent during the dinner ; indeed, he was 

 too far off for conversation, had there been any for him to join 

 in ; which was not the case, for Amelia and Sponge kept up a 

 hum of words, while Emily worked Eobert Foozle with question 

 and answer, such as 



" Were your sisters out to-day ? " 



" Yes, my sisters were out to-day." 



" Are your sisters going to the Christmas ball ? " 



" Yes, my sisters are going to the Christmas ball," &c, &c. 



Still, nearly daft as Robert was, he was generally asked where 

 there was anything going on ; and more than one young la — but 

 we will not tell about that, as he has nothing to do with our story. 



By the time the ladies took their departure, Mr. Jawleyford 

 had somewhat recovered from the annoyance of his disappointment ; 

 and as they retired he rang the bell, and desired Spigot to set in 

 the horse-shoe table, and bring a bottle of the " green seal," being 

 the colour affixed on the bottles of a four-dozen hamper of port 

 (" curious old port at 48s.") that had arrived from " Wintle and 

 Co." by rail (goods train of course) that morning. 



" There ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, as Spigot placed the richly- 

 cut decanter on the horse-shoe table. " There ! " repeated he, draw- 

 ing the green curtain as if to shade it from the fire, but in reality 

 to hide the dulness the recent shaking had given it ; " that wine," 

 said he, "is a quarter of a century in bottle, at the very least." 



" Indeed," observed Sponge : " time it was drunk." 



" A quarter of a century ? " gaped Robert Foozle. 



" Quarter of a century if it's a day," replied Jawleyford, smack- 

 ing his lips as he set down his glass after imbibing the precious 

 beverage. 



"Very fine," observed Sponge; adding, as he sipped off his 

 glass, " it's odd to find such old\vine so full-bodied." 



"Well, now tell us all about your day's proceedings," said 

 Jawkyford, thinking it advisable to change the conversation at 

 once. " What sport had you with my lord ? " 



