332 mr. 



told Susan, the cook, to keep the dinner back a little, to give Mr. 

 Sponge a chance, who could not possibly change his tight hunting 

 things for his evening tights in the short space of time that Jog 

 couid drop off his loose flowing garments, wash his hands, and run the 

 comb through his lank, candle-like hair. 



Five o'clock struck, and Jog was just applying his hand to the fat 

 red-and-black worsted bell-pull, when Mrs. Jog announced what she 

 had done. 



" Put off the dinner (wheeze), put off the dinner (puff)," repeated 

 he, blowing furiously into his clean shirt-frill, which stuck up under 

 his nose like a hand-saw ; " put off the dinner (wheeze), put off the 

 dinner (puff), I wish you wouldn't do such (wheeze) things without 

 consulting (gasp) me." 



" Well, but, my dear, you couldn't possibly sit down without him," 

 observed Mrs. Jog, mildly. 



" Possibly ! (puff), possibly ! (wheeze)," repeated Jog. " There's 

 no possibly in the matter," retorted he, blowiDg more furiously into 

 the frill. 



Mrs. Jog was silent. 



" A man should conform to the (puff) hours of the (wheeze) house," 

 observed Jog, after a pause. 



" Well, but, my dear, you know hunters are always allowed a 

 little law," observed Mrs. Jog. 



" Law ! (puff), law ! (wheeze)," retorted Jog. " I never want any 

 law," thinking of Smiler v. Jogglebury. 



Half-past five o'clock came, and still no Sponge ; and Mrs. Jog, 

 thinking it would be better to arrange to have something hot for him 

 when he came, than to-do further battle with her husband, gave the 

 bell the double ring indicative of " bring dinner." 



" Nay (puff), nay (wheeze) ; when you have (gasp)ed so long," 

 growled Jog, taking the other tack, " you might as well have (wheez)ed 

 a little longer " — snorting into his frill as he spoke. 



Mrs. Jogglebury said nothiDg, but slipped quietly out, as if after 

 her keys, to tell Susan to keep so-and-so in the meat-screen, and havo 

 a few potatoes ready to boil against Mr. Sponge arrived. She then 

 sidled back quietly into the room, Jog and she presently proceeded 

 to that all-important meal, Jog blowing out the company candles on 

 the side-table as he passed. 



Jog munched away with a capital appetite ; but Mrs. Jog, who 

 took the bulk of her ladiDg at the children's dinner, sat trifling with 

 the contents of her plate, listening alternately for the sound of horse's 

 hoofs outside, and for nursery squalls in. 



Dinner passed over, and the fruity port and sugary sherry soon 

 usurped the places that stick-jaw pudding and cheese had occupied. 



" Mr. (puff) Sponge must be (wheeze), I think," observed Jog, 



