‘Well, but my (puff) dear, he’s as likely to (wheeze) these fifty years as any (puff, wheeze) man I ever looked at,’ replied Jogglebury

‘Oh, nonsense,’ replied Mrs Jogglebury; ‘there’s no saying when a fox-hunter may break his neck. My word! but Mrs Slooman tells me pretty stories of Sloo’s doings with the harriers -- jumping over hurdles, and everything that comes in the way, and galloping along the stony lanes as if the wind was a snail compared to his horse. I tell you, Jog, you should call on this gentleman -- ’

‘Well,’ replied Mr Jogglebury.

‘And ask him to come and stay here,’ continued Mrs Jogglebury.

‘Perhaps he mightn’t like it (puff),’ replied Jogglebury. ‘I don’t know that we could (puff) entertain him as he’s (wheeze) accustomed to be,’ added he.

‘Oh, nonsense,’ replied Mrs Jogglebury; ‘we can entertain him well enough. You always say fox-hunters are not ceremonious. I tell you what, Jog, you don’t think half enough of yourself. You are far two easily set aside. My word! but I know some people who would give themselves pretty airs if their husband was chairman of a board of guardians, and trustee of I don’t know how many of her Majesty’s turnpike roads,’ Mrs Jog here thinking of her sister Mrs Springwheat, who, she used to say, had married a mere farmer. ‘I tell you, Jog, you’re far too humble, you don’t think half enough of yourself.’

‘Well, but, my (puff) dear, you don’t (puff) consider that all people ain’t (puff) fond of (wheeze) children,’ observed Jogglebury, after a pause. ‘Indeed, I’ve (puff) observed that some (wheeze) don’t like them.’

‘Oh, but those will be nasty little brats, like Mrs James Wakenshaw’s, or Mrs Tom Cheek’s. But such children as ours! such charmers! such delights! there isn’t a man in the county, from the Lord-Lieutenant downwards, who wouldn’t be proud -- who wouldn’t think it a compliment -- to be asked to be godpapa to such children. I tell you what, Mr Jogglebury Crowdey, it would be far better to get them rich godpapas and godmammas than to leave them a whole house full of sticks.’

‘Well, but, my (puff) dear, the (wheeze) sticks will prove very (wheeze) hereafter,’ replied Jogglebury, bridling up at the imputation on his hobby.

‘I hope so,’ replied Mrs Jogglebury, in a tone of incredulity.

‘Well, but, my (puff) dear, I (wheeze) you that they will be -- indeed (puff), I may (wheeze) say that they (puff) are. It was only the other (puff) day that (wheeze) Patrick O’Fogo offered me five-and-twenty (wheeze) shillings for my (puff) blackthorn Daniel O’Connell, which is by no means so (puff) good as the (wheeze) wild-cherry one, or, indeed, (puff) as the yew-tree one that I (wheeze) out of Spankerley Park.’

‘I’d have taken it if I’d been you,’ observed Mrs Jogglebury.

‘But he’s (puff) worth far more,’ retorted Jogglebury, angrily; ‘why (wheeze) Lumpleg offered me as much for Disraeli.’

‘Well, I’d have taken it, too,’ rejoined Mrs Jogglebury.

‘But I should have (wheeze) spoilt my (puff) set,’ replied the gibbeystick man. ‘S’pose any (wheeze) body was to (puff) offer me five guineas a (puff) piece for the (puff) pick of my (puff) collection -- my (puff) Wellingtons, my (wheeze) Napoleons, my (puff) Byrons, my (wheeze) Walter Scotts, my (puff) Lord Johns, d’ye think I’d take it?’

‘I should hope so,’ replied Mrs Jogglebury.