106 MR. 



' Oh, your lordship,' said I, ' your Guidos, and Ostades, and Pous- 

 sins, and Velasquez, are not to be surpassed.' ' True,' replied his 

 lordship, ' they are fine — very fine ; but you have the Murillos. I'd 

 like to give you a good round sum,' added he, ' to pick out half-a- 

 dozen pictures out of your gallery.' Do you understand pictures?" 

 continued Jawleyford, turning short on his friend Sponge. 



" A little," replied Sponge, in a tone that might mean either yes 

 or no — a great deal or nothing at all. 



Jawleyford then took him and worked him through his collection 

 — talked of light and shade, and tone, and depth of colouring, tints, 

 and pencillings ; and put Sponge here and there and everywhere to 

 catch the light (or rain, as the case might be) ; made him convert his 

 hand into an opera-glass, and occasionally put his head between his 

 legs to get an upside-down-view — a feat that Sponge's equestrian 

 experience made him pretty well up to. So they looked, and admired, 

 and criticised, till Spigot's all-important figure came looming up the 

 gallery, and announced that luncheon was ready. 



" Bless me ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, pulling a most diminutive 

 Geneva watch, hung with pencils, pistol-keys, and other curiosities, 

 out of his pocket ; "Bless me, who'd have thought it ? One o'clock, 

 I declare ! Well, if this doesn't prove the value of a gallery on a 

 wet day, I don't know what does. However," said he, " we must 

 tear ourselves away for the present, and go and see what the ladies 

 are about." 



If ever a man may be excused for indulging in luncheon, it cer- 

 tainly is on a pouring wet day (when he eats for occupation), or when 

 he is making love ; both which excuses Mr. Sponge had to offer, so he 

 just sat down and ate as heartily as the best of the party, not except- 

 ing his host himself, who was an excellent hand at luncheon. 



Jawleyford tried to get him back to the gallery after luncheon, 

 but a look from his wife intimated that Sponge was wanted else- 

 where, so he quietly saw him carried off to the music-room ; and 

 presently the notes of the " grand piano," and full clear voices of 

 his daughters, echoing along the passage, intimated that they were 

 trying what effect music would have upon him. 



When Mrs. Jawleyford looked in about an hour after, she found 

 Mr. Sponge sitting over the fire with his " Mogg" in his hand, and 

 the young ladies with their laps full of company-work, keeping up a 

 sort of crossfire of conversation in the shape of question and answer. 

 Mrs. Jawleyford's company making matters worse, they soon became 

 tediously agreeable. 



In course of time, Jawleyford entered the room, with — 

 " My dear Mr. Sponge, your groom has come up to know about 

 your horse to-morrow. I told him it was utterly impossible to think 

 of hunting, but he says he must have his orders from you. I should 

 say," added Jawleyford, "it is quite out of the question — madness 

 to think of it; much better in the house, such weather." 



