MB. SFONGE'S SFORTING TOVR. 3V1 



" Sir Harry at home ? " asked Mr. Sponge, making the woman 

 sensible of his presence, by cracking his whip close to her ear. 



" No," replied the dame, gruffly, commencing an assault upon 

 the nearest chair with a duster. 



" Where is he ? " asked our friend. 



" Bed, to be sure," replied the woman, in the same tone. 



" Bed, to be sure," repeated Mr. Sponge. " I don't think there's 

 any ' sure ' in the case. Do you know what o'clock it is ?" asked he. 



" No," replied the woman, flopping away at another chair, and 

 arranging the crimson velvet curtains on the holders. 



Mr. Sponge was rather nonplussed. His red coat did not 

 command the respect that a red coat generally does. The fact 

 was, they had such queer people in red coats at 'Nonsuch House, 

 that a red coat was rather an object of suspicion than otherwise. 



" Well, but my good woman," continued Mr. Sponge, softening 

 his tone, " can you tell me where I shall find anybody who can tell 

 me anything about the hounds ? " 



" No," growled the woman, still flopping, and whisking, and 

 knocking the furniture about. 



" I'll remember you for your trouble," observed Mr. Sponge, 

 diving his right hand into his breeches' pocket. 



" Mr. Bottleends be gone to bed," observed the woman, now 

 ceasing her evolutions, and parting her grisly, disordered tresses, 

 as she advanced and stood staring, with her arms akimbo, out of 

 the window. She was the under-housemaid's deputy ; all the 

 servants at Nonsuch House doing the rough of their work by 

 deputy. Lady Scattercash was a real lady, and liked to have the 

 credit of the house maintained, which of course can only be done 

 by letting the upper servants do nothing. " Mr. Bottleends be 

 gone to bed," observed the woman. 



" Mr. Bottleends ? " repeated Mr. Sponge ; " who's he ? " 



"The butler, to be sure," replied she, astonished that any person 

 should have to ask who such an important personage was. 



" Can't you call him ? " asked Mr. Sponge, still fumbling in his 

 pocket. 



" Couldn't, if it was ever so," replied the dame, smoothing her 

 dirty blue-checked apron with her still dirtier hand. 



" Why not ? " asked Mr. Sponge. 



" Whij not ? " repeated the woman ; " why, 'cause Mr. Bottleends 

 won't be disturbed by no one. He said when he went to bed that 

 he hadn't to be called till to-morrow." 



" Not called till to-morrow ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge ; " then is 

 Sir Harry from home ? " 



" From home, no ; what should put that i' your head ? " sneered 

 the woman. 



" Why, if the butler's in bed, one may suppose the master's away." 



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