mr. sponge's sporting tour. 351 



"Well, there's sixpence for you, my good woman," said he at length, 

 drawing his hand out of his pocket and handing her the contents 

 through the window ; adding, " don't make a beast of yourself 

 with it." 



" It's nabbut fourpence" observed the woman, holding it out on 

 the palm of her hand. 



" Ah, well, you're welcome to it whatever it is," replied our 

 friend, turning his horse to go away. A thought then struck him. 

 " Could you get me a pen and ink, think you ? " asked he ; "I want 

 to write a line to Sir Harry." 



" Pen and ink ! " replied the woman, who had pocketed the groat 

 and resumed her dusting; " I don't know where they keep no such 

 things as penses and inkses." 



" Most likely in the drawing-room or the sitting-room, or perhaps 

 in the butler's pantry," observed Mr. Sponge. 



" Well, you can come in and see," replied the woman, thinking 

 there was no occasion to give herself any more trouble for the four- 

 penny-piece. 



Our worthy friend sat on his horse a few seconds staring intently 

 into the dining-room window, thinking that lapse of time might 

 cause the four penny-piece to be sufficiently respected to procure him 

 something like directions how to proceed as well to get rid of his 

 horse, as to procure access to the house, the door of which stood 

 frowningly shut. In this, however, he was mistaken, for no sooner 

 had the woman uttered the words, " Well, you can come in and see," 

 than she flaunted into the interior of the room, and commenced a 

 regular series of assaults upon the furniture, throwing the hearth-rug 

 over one chair back, depositing the fire-irons in another, rearing the 

 steel fender up against the Carrara marble chimney-piece, and knock- 

 ing things about in the independent way that servants treat unoffend- 

 ing furniture when master and mistress are comfortably ensconced 

 in bed. "Flop" went the duster again; "bang" went the furni- 

 ture ; " knock " this chair went against that, and she seemed bent 

 upon putting all things into that happy state of sixes and sevens that 

 characterises a sale of household furniture, when chairs mount tables, 

 and the whole system of domestic economy is revolutionised. 

 Seeing that he was not going to get anything more for his money, 

 our friend at length turned his horse and found his way to the stables 

 by the unerring drag of carriage-wheels. All things there beiDg as 

 matters were in the house, he put the redoubtable nag into a stall, 

 and helped him to a liberal measure of oats out of the well-stored 

 unlocked corn-bin. He then sought the back of the house by the 

 worn flagged-way that connected it with the stables. The back yard 

 was in the admired confusion that might be expected from the 

 woman's account. Empty casks and hampers were piled and stowed 

 away in all directions, while regiments of champagne and other bot- 



