‘May as well fi-fi-fin-nish the bottle,’ observed Jack, holding it up to the candle. ‘Just a thi-thi-thim-bleful apiece,’ added he, helping himself to about three-quarters of what there was.
‘You’ve taken your share,’ observed Sponge, as the bottle suspended payment before he got half the quantity that Jack had.
‘Sque-ee-eze it,’ replied Jack, suiting the action to the word, and working away at an exhausted lemon.
At length they finished.
‘Well, I s’pose we may as well go and have some tea,’ observed Jack.
‘It’s not announced yet,’ said Sponge, ‘but I make no doubt it will be ready.’
So saying, the worthies rose, and, after sundry bumps and certain irregularities of course, they each succeeded in reaching the door. The passage lamp had died out and filled the corridor with its fragrance. Sponge, however, knew the way, and the darkness favoured the adjustment of cravats and the fingering of hair. Having got up a sort of drunken simper, Sponge opened the drawing-room door, expecting to find smiling ladies in a blaze of light. All, however, was darkness, save the expiring embers in the grate. The tick, tick, tick, ticking of the clocks sounded wonderfully clear.
‘Gone to bed!’ exclaimed Sponge.
‘Who--hoop!’ shrieked Jack, at the top of his voice.
‘What’s smatter, gentlemen? -- What’s smatter?’ exclaimed Spigot rushing in, rubbing his eyes with one hand, and holding a block tin candlestick in the other.
‘Nothin’,’ replied Jack, squinting his eyes inside out; adding, ‘Get me a devilled --’ (hiccup)
‘Don’t know how to do them here, sir,’ snapped Spigot.
‘Devilled turkey’s leg though you do, you rascal!’ rejoined Jack, doubling his fists and putting himself in posture.
‘Beg pardon, sir,’ replied Spigot, ‘but the cook, sir, is gone to bed, sir. Do you know, sir, what o’clock it is, sir?’
‘No,’ replied Jack.
‘What time is it?’ asked Sponge.
‘Twenty minutes to two,’ replied Spigot, holding up a sort of pocket warming-pan, which he called a watch.
‘The deuce,’ exclaimed Sponge.
‘Who’d ha’ thought it?’ muttered Jack.
‘Well then, I suppose we may as well go to bed,’ observed Sponge.
‘S’pose so,’ replied Jack; ‘nothin’ more to get.’
‘Do you know your room?’ asked Sponge.
‘To be sure I do,’ replied Jack; ‘don’t think I’m d-d-dr-drunk, do you?’
‘Not likely,’ rejoined Sponge.