314 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUB. 



said to his guest, " When you're (wheeze), I'm (puff)." So saying, 

 he got up, and gave his great legs one or two convulsive shakes, 

 as if to see that they were on. 



Mrs. Jogglebury looked reproachfully at him, as much as to say, 

 " How can you behave so ? " 



Mr. Sponge, as he eyed Jog's ill-made, queerly put on garments, 

 wished that he had not desired Leather to go to the meet. It 

 would have been better to have got the horses a little way off, and 

 have shirked Jog, who did not look like a desirable introducer to 

 a hunting field. 



" I'll be with you directly," replied Mr. Sponge, gulping down 

 the remains of his tea ; adding, " I've just got to run up-stairs and 

 get a cigar." So saying, he jumped up and disappeared. 



Murry Ann, not approving of Sponge's smoking in his bedroom, 

 had hid the cigar-case under the toilet cover, at the back of the 

 glass, and it was some time before he found it. 



Mrs. Jogglebury availed herself of the lapse of time, and his 

 absence, to pacify her young Turk, and try to coax him into 

 reciting the marvellous " Obin and Ichard." 



As Mr. Sponge came clanking down stairs with the cigar-case 

 in his hand, she met him (accidentally, of course) at the bottom, 

 with the boy in her arms, and exclaimed, " Mr. Sponge, here's 

 Gustavus James wants to tell you a little story." 



Mr. Sponge stopped— inwardly hoping that it would not be a 

 long one. 



"Now, my darling," said she, sticking the boy up straight to 

 get him to begin. 



" Now tlmiV exclaimed Mr. Crowdey, in the true Jehu-like style, 

 from the vehicle at the door, in which he had composed himself. 



" Coming, Jog ! coming ! " replied Mrs. Crowdey, with a frown 

 on her brow at the untimely interruption ; then appealing again 

 to the child, who was nestling in his mother's bosom, as if disin- 

 clined to show off, she said, " Now, my darling, let the gentleman 

 hear how nicely you'll say it." 



The child still slunk. 



" That's a fine fellow, out with it ! " said Mr. Sponge, taking up 

 his hat to be off. 



" Now then ! " exclaimed his host again. 



" Coming ! " replied Mr. Sponge. 



As if to thwart him, the child then began, Mrs. Jogglebury 

 holding up her forefinger as well in admiration as to keep 

 silence : — 



" Obin and Ichard, two pretty men, 

 Lay in bed till 'e clock struck ten ; 

 Up starts Obin, and looks at the sky 



And then the brat stopped. 



