mr. sponge's sporting tour. 289 



" I've (puff) breakfasted, my (wheeze) dear," replied Jog, pom- 

 pously, wiping his mouth on his claret-coloured bandana. 



" They'll be wasted if you don't," replied Mrs. Jog. 



" Well, but they'll be wasted if I eat them without (wheeze) 

 wanting them," rejoined he. 



" Nonsense, Jog, you always say that," retorted his wife. 



" Nonsense (puff), nonsense (wheeze), I say they will." 



11 1 say they wonH ! " replied Mrs. Jog ; " now will they, Mr. 

 Sponge ? " continued she, appealing to our friend. 



" Why, no, not so much as if they went out," replied our friend, 

 thinking Mrs. Jog was the one to side with. 



" Then you'd better (puff, wheeze, gasp) eat them between you," 

 replied Jog, getting up and strutting out of the room. 



Presently he appeared in front of the house, crowned in a pea- 

 green wide-awake, with a half-finished gibbey in his hand ; and as 

 Mr. Sponge did not want to offend him, and moreover wanted to get 

 his horses billeted on him, he presently made an excuse for joining 

 him. 



Although his horses were standing " free gratis," as he called it, 

 at Mr. Putfington's, and though he would have thought nothing of 

 making Mr. Leather come over with one each hunting morning, still 

 he felt that if the hounds were much on the other side of Pudding- 

 pote Bower, it would not be so convenient as having them there. 

 Despite the egg controversy, he thought a judicious application of 

 soft sauder might accomplish what he wanted. At all events, he 

 would try. 



Jog had brought himself short up, and was standing glowering 

 with his hands in his coat-pockets, as if he had never seen the place 

 before. 



" Pretty look-out you have here, Mr. Jogglebury," observed Mr. 

 Spohge, joining him. 



" Very," replied Jog, still cogitating the egg question, and think- 

 ing he wouldn't have so many boiled the next day. 



" All yours ? " asked Sponge, waving his hand as he spoke. 



" My (puff) ter-ri-tory goes up to those (wheeze) firs in the grass- 

 field on the hill," replied Jogglebury, pompously. 



u Indeed," said Mr. Sponge, " they are fine trees ; " thinking 

 what a finish they would make for a steeple-chase. 



" My (puff) uncle, Crowdey, planted those (wheeze) trees," ob- 

 served Jog. " I observe," added he, " that it is easier to cut down a 

 (puff) tree than to make it (wheeze) again." 



"I believe you're right," replied Mr. Sponge; "that idea has 

 struck me very often." 



" Has it ? " replied Jog, puffing voluminously into his frill. 



They then advanced a few paces, and, leaning on the iron hurdles, 

 commenced staring at the cows. 

 13 



