306 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 



fidence in Mrs. Jogglebury's management — especially as the guest 

 was of her own seeking — to know that she would make up a 

 tolerable dinner. 



Nor was he out of his reckoning, for at half-past five Bartholomew 

 announced dinner, when in sailed Mrs. Crowdey fresh from the 

 composition of it and from the becoming revision of her own dress. 

 Instead of the loose, flowing, gipsified, stunner tartan of the morn- 

 ing, she was attired in a close-fitting French grey silk, showing as 

 well the fulness and whiteness of her exquisite bust, as the beauti- 

 ful formation of her arms. Her raven hair was ably parted and 

 flattened on either side of her well-shaped head. Sponge felt proud 

 of the honour of having such a fine creature on his arm, and kicked 

 about in his tights more than usual. 



The dinner, though it might show symptoms of hurry, was yet 

 plentiful and good of its kind ; and, if Bartholomew had not been 

 always getting in Murry Ann's way, would have been well set on 

 and served. Jog quaffed quantities of foaming bottled porter 

 during the progress of it, and threw himself back in his chair at 

 the end, as if thoroughly overcome with his exertions. Scarcely 

 were the wine and dessert set on, ere a violent outbreak in the 

 nursery caused Mrs. Crowdey to hurry away, leaving Mr. Sponge 

 to enjoy the company of her husband. 



" You'll drink (puff) fox-hunting, I s'pose," observed Jog, after 

 a pause, helping himself to a bumper of port and passing the bottle 

 to Sponge. 



" With all my heart," replied our hero, filling up. 



" Fine (puff, wheeze) amusement," observed Mr. Crowdey, with 

 a yawn after another pause, and beating the devil's tattoo upon the 

 table to keep himself awake. 



" Very," replied Mr. Sponge, wondering how such a thick-winded 

 chap as Jog managed to partake of it. 



"Fine (puff, wheeze) appetiser," observed Jogglebury, after 

 another pause. 



" It is," replied Mr. Sponge. 



Presently Jog began to snore, and as the increasing melody of 

 his nose gave little hopes of returning animation, Mr. Sponge had 

 recourse to his old friend " Mogg," and amidst speculations as to 

 time and distances, managed to finish the port. "We will now pass 

 to the next morning. 



Whatever deficiency there might be at dinner was amply atoned 

 for at breakfast, which was both good and abundant ; bread and 

 cake of all sorts, eggs, muffins, toast, honey, jellies, and preserves 

 without end. On the side-table was a dish of hot kidneys and a 

 magnificent red home-fed ham. 



But a greater treat far, as Mrs. Jogglebury thought, was in the 

 guests set around. There were arranged all her tulips in succes- 



