296 mr. sponge's sporting tour. 



Then turning to the child, she thus attempted to give him the 

 cue. 



" O, ho ! bother " 



Now then ! times hup/" again shouted Jogglebury into the 



" dear, Mr. Jogglebury, will you hold your stoopid tongue ! " 

 exclaimed she ; adding, u you certainly are the most tiresome man 

 under the sun." She then turned to the child with — 



" ho ! bother Ichard" again. 



But the child was mute, and Mr. Sponge fearing, from some in- 

 distinct growlings that proceeded from the carriage, that a storm 

 was brewing, endeavoured to cut short the entertainment by exclaim- 

 ing— 



" "Wonderful two-year old ! Pity he's not in the Darby. Dare 

 say he'll tell me the rest when I come back." 



But this only added fuel to the fire of Mrs. Jogglebury's ardour, 

 and made her more anxious that Sponge should not lose a word of 

 it. Accordingly she gave the fat dumpling another jerk up on her 

 arm, and repeated — 



" ho ! bother Ichard, the "What's very high ? " asked Mrs. 



Jogglebury, coaxingly. 



" Sun's very high," 



replied the child. 



" Yes, my darling ! " exclaimed the delighted mamma. 

 Mrs. Jogglebury then proceeded with — 



M On go before " 



Child.—' 1 With bottle and bag," 



Mamma. — " And I'll follow after " 



Child.—" With 'ittle Jack Nag." 



" "Well now, that is wonderful ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge, hurryiDg 

 on his dog-skin gloves, and wishing both Obin and Ichard further. 



" Isn't it! " exclaimed Mrs. Jogglebury, in ecstacies ; then ad- 

 dressing the child, she said, " Now that is a good boy — that is a fine 

 fellow. Now couldn't he say it all over by himself, doesn't he think ? " 

 Mrs. Jogglebury looking at Mr. Sponge, as if she was meditating the 

 richest possible treat for him. 



" Oh," replied Mr. Sponge, quite tired of the detention, " he'll tell 

 me it when I return — he'll tell me it when I return," at the same 

 time giving the child another parting chuck under the chin. But 

 the child was not to be put off in that way, and instead of crouching, 

 and nestling, and hiding its face, it looked up quite boldly, and after 

 a little hesitation went through " Obin and Ichard," to the delight 

 of Mrs. Jogglebury, the mortification of Sponge, and the growling 

 denunciations of old Jog, who still kept his place in the vehicle. Mr. 

 Sponge could not but stay the poem out. 



