337 



man like me ; but the fact was, nothing would serve Sir Harry but I 

 should go with him to get some refreshment at a tenant's of his : and 

 we got on, talking first about one thing, and then about another, and 

 the time slipped away so quickly, that day was gone before I knew 

 where I was ; and though Sir Harry was most anxious — indeed, 

 would hardly take a refusal — for me to go home with him, I felt 

 that, being a guest here, I couldn't do it, — at least not then ; so I 

 got my horse, and tried to find my way with such directions as the 

 farmer gave me, and soon lost my way, for the moon was uncertain, 

 and the country all strange both to me and my horse." 



" What farmer was it ? " asked Jog, with the butter streaming 

 down the gutters of his chin from a mouthful of thick toast. 



' ; Farmer — farmer — farmer, — let me see, what farmer it was," 

 replied Mr. Sponge, thoughtfully, again attacking the kidneys. " Oh, 

 Farmer Beanstraw, I should say." 



" Peastraw, p'raps ? " suggested Jog, colouring up, and staring 

 intently at Mr. Sponge. 



" Pea — Peastraw was the name," replied Mr. Sponge. 



" I know him," said Jog ; " Peastraw of Stoke." 



"Ah, he said he knew you," replied Mr. Sponge. 



" Did he ? " asked Jog, eagerly. " What did he say ? " 



" Say — let me see what he said," replied he, pretending to recol- 

 lect. " He said ' you are a deuced good feller,' and I'd to make his 

 compliments to you, and to say that there were some nice young ash 

 saplings on his farm that you were welcome to cut." 



" Did he ? " exclaimed Jog; " I'm sure that's very (puff) polite 

 of hint; I'll (wheeze) over there the first opportunity." 



" And what- did you make of Sir Harry ? " asked Mrs. Jog. 



" Did you (puff) say you were going to (wheeze) over to him ? " 

 asked Jog, eagerly. 



" 1 told him I'd go to him before I left the country," replied Mr. 

 Sponge, carelessly ; adding, " Sir Harry is rather too fast a man for 

 me." 



" Too fast for himself, I should think," observed Mrs. Jog. 



" Fine (puff — wheeze) young man," growled Jog into the bottom 

 of his cup. 



" Have you known him long ? " asked Mrs. Jogglebury. 



" Oh, we fox-hunters all know each other," replied Mr. Sponge, 

 evasively. 



" Well, now that's what I tell Mr. Jogglebury," exclaimed she. 

 u Mr. Jog's so shy, that there's no getting him to do what he ought,*' 

 added the lady. " No one, to hear him, would think he's the great 

 man he is." 



" Ought (puff) — ought (wheeze)," retorted Jog, puffing furiously 

 into his capacious shirt-frill " It's one (puff) thing to know (pun) 



15 



