172 mr. sponge's sporting tour. 



your legs coming here. Here's a breakfast fit to set before the 

 Queen — muffins, and crumpets, and cakes. Let me advise you to 

 make the best use of your time, for you have but twenty minutes," 

 continued his lordship, looking at hia watch, " and muffins and 

 crumpets don't come in your way every day." 



" 'Deed they don't," replied Jack, with a grin. 



" Will your lordship take tea or coffee ? " asked Mrs. Springwheat, 

 who had now taken her seat at the top of the table, behind a richly 

 chased equipage for the distribution of those beverages. 



" 'Pon my word," replied his lordship, apparently bewildered — 

 " 'pon my word, I don't know what to say. Tea or coffee ? To tell 

 you the truth, I was going to take something out of my black friend 

 yonder," nodding to where a French bottle like a tall bully was lift- 

 ing its head above an encircling stand of liqueur-glasses. 



" Suppose you have a little of what we call laced tea, my lord — 

 tea with a dash of brandy in it ? " suggested Mr. Springwheat. 



" Laced tea," repeated his lordship ; " laced tea : so I will," said 

 he. " Deuced good idea — deuced good idea," continued he, bring- 

 ing the bottle, and seating himself on Mrs. Springwheat's right, while 

 his host helped him to a most plentiful plate of turkey and tongue. 

 The table was now about full, as was the room ; the guests just roll- 

 ing in as they would to a public-house, and helping themselves to 

 whatever they liked. Great was the noise of eating. 



As his lordship was in the full enjoyment of his plateful of meat, 

 he happened to look up, and, the space between him and the window 

 being clear, he saw something that caused him to drop his knife and 

 fork and fall back in his chair as if he was shot. 



" My lord's ill ! " exclaimed Mr. Springwheat, who, being the 

 only man with his nose up, was the first to perceive it. 



" Clap him on the back ! " shrieked Mrs. Springwheat, who con- 

 sidered that an infallible recipe for the ailments of children. 



" Oh, Mr. Spraggon ! " exclaimed both, as they rushed to his as- 

 sistance, " what is the matter with my lord ? " 



" Oh that Mister something ! " gasped his lordship, bending 

 forward in his chair, and venturing another glance through the 

 window. 



Sure enough, there was Sponge, in the act of dismounting from 

 the piebald, and resigning it with becoming dignity to his trusty 

 groom, Mr. Leather, who stood most respectfully — Parvo in hand — 

 waiting to receive it. 



Mr. Sponge, being of opinion that a red coat is a passport every- 

 where, having stamped the mud sparks off his boots at tl^e door, swag- 

 gered in with the greatest coolness, exclaiming, as he bobbed his head 

 to the lady, and looked round at the company — 



" What, grubbing away ! grubbing away, eh ? " 



