Emily tripped away to do as she was bid. The fair messenger presently returned, bearing both volumes, richly bound and lettered, with the Jawleyford crests studded down the backs, and an immense coat of arms on the side.

A careful search among the Ss produced nothing in the shape of Sponge.

‘Not likely, I should think,’ observed Miss Jawleyford, with a toss of her head, as her mamma announced the fact.

‘Well, never mind,’ replied Mrs Jawleyford, seeing that only one of the girls could have him, and that one was quite ready; ‘never mind, I dare say I shall be able to find out something from himself,’ and so they dropped the subject.

In due time in swaggered our hero, himself, kicking his legs about as men in tights or tops generally do.

‘May I give you tea or coffee?’ asked Emily, in the sweetest tone possible, as she raised her finely turned gloveless arm towards where the glittering appendages stood on the large silver tray.

‘Neither, thank you,’ said Sponge, throwing himself into an easy-chair beside Mrs Jawleyford. He then crossed his legs, and cocking up a toe for admiration, began to yawn.

‘You feel tired after your journey?’ observed Mrs Jawleyford.

‘No, I’m not,’ said Sponge, yawning again -- a good yawn this time.

Miss Jawleyford looked significantly at her sister -- a long pause ensued.

‘I knew a family of your name,’ at length observed Mrs Jawleyford, in the simple sort of way women begin pumping men. ‘I knew a family of your name,’ repeated she, seeing Sponge was half asleep -- ‘the Sponges of Toadey Hall. Pray are they any relation of yours?’

‘Oh -- ah -- yes,’ blurted Sponge: ‘I suppose they are. The fact is -- the -- haw -- Sponges -- haw -- are a rather large family -- haw. Meet them almost everywhere.’

‘You don’t live in the same county, perhaps?’ observed Mrs Jawleyford.

‘No, we don’t,’ replied he, with a yawn.

‘Is yours a good hunting country?’ asked Jawleyford, thinking to sound him in another way.

‘No; a devilish bad ’un,’ replied Sponge, adding with a grunt, ‘or I wouldn’t be here.’

‘Who hunts it?’ asked Mr Jawleyford.

‘Why, as to that -- haw’ -- replied Sponge, stretching out his arms and legs to their fullest extent, and yawning most vigorously -- ‘why, as to that, I can hardly say which you would call my country, for I have to do with so many; but I should say, of all the countries I am -- haw -- connected with -- haw -- Tom Scratch’s is the worst.’

Mr Jawleyford looked at Mrs Jawleyford as a counsel who thinks he has made a grand hit looks at a jury before he sits down, and said no more.

Mrs Jawleyford looked as innocent as most jurymen do after one of these forensic exploits. -- Mr Sponge beginning his nasal recreations, Mrs Jawleyford motioned the ladies off to bed -- Mr Sponge and his host presently followed.


  By PanEris using Melati.

Previous chapter/page Back Home Email this Search Discuss Bookmark Next chapter
Copyright: All texts on Bibliomania are © Bibliomania.com Ltd, and may not be reproduced in any form without our written permission. See our FAQ for more details.