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Very beautiful! exclaimed Mr Sponge; very beautiful! One of Moores, isnt it? Thank you, my little dear, thank you, added he, chucking him under the chin, and putting on his hat to be off. O, but stop, Mr Sponge! exclaimed Mrs Jogglebury, you havent heard it all -- theres more yet. Then turning to the child, she thus attempted to give him the cue. O, ho! bother -- Now then! times hup! again shouted Jogglebury into the passage. O dear, Mr Jogglebury, will you hold your stoopid tongue! exclaimed she; adding, you certainly are the most tiresome man under the sun. She then turned to the child with -- O ho! bother Ichard -- again. But the child was mute, and Mr Sponge fearing, from some indistinct growlings that proceeded from the carriage, that a storm was brewing, endeavoured to cut short the entertainment by exclaiming -- Wonderful two-year-old! Pity hes not in the Darby. Dare say hell tell me the rest when I come back. But this only added fuel to the fire of Mrs Joggleburys ardour, and made her more anxious that Sponge should not lose a word of it. Accordingly she gave the fat dumpling another jerk up on her arm, and repeated -- O ho! bother Ichard, the -- Whats very high? asked Mrs Jogglebury, coaxingly. Suns very high, replied the child. Yes, my darling! exclaimed the delighted mamma. Mrs Jogglebury then proceeded with -- Ou go before -- Child -- With bottle and bag, Mamma -- And Ill follow after -- Child -- With ittle Jack Nag. Well now, that is wonderful! exclaimed Mr Sponge, hurrying on his dog-skin gloves, and wishing both Obin and Ichard further. Isnt it! exclaimed Mrs Jogglebury, in ecstasies; then addressing the child, she said, Now that is a good boy -- that is a fine fellow. Now couldnt he say it all over by himself, doesnt he think? Mrs Jogglebury looking at Mr Sponge, as if she was meditating the richest possible treat for him. Oh, replied Mr Sponge, quite tired of the detention, hell tell me it when I return -- hell tell me it when I return, at the same time giving the child another parting chuck under the chin. But the child was not to be put off in that way, and instead of crouching, and nestling, and hiding its face, it looked up quite boldly, and after a little hesitation went through Obin and Ichard, to the delight of Mrs Jogglebury, the mortification of Sponge, and the growling denunciations of old Jog, who still kept his place in the vehicle. Mr Sponge could not but stay the poem out. |
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