‘Jaw and the ladies well?’ asked Jack, in the same strain.

‘Oh, nicely,’ said Sponge.

‘Take a glass of cherry-brandy,’ exclaimed the hospitable Mr. Springwheat:  ‘nothing like a drop of something for steadying the nerves.’

‘Presently,’ replied Sponge, ’presently; meanwhile I’ll trouble the missis for a cup of coffee.  Coffee without sugar,’ said Sponge, addressing the lady.

‘With pleasure,’ replied Mrs. Springwheat, glad to get a little custom for her goods.  Most of the gentlemen had been at the bottles and sideboard.

Springwheat, seeing Mr. Sponge, the only person who, as a stranger, there was any occasion for him to attend to, in the care of his wife, now slipped out of the room, and mounting his five-year-old horse, whose tail stuck out like the long horn of a coach, as his ploughman groom said, rode off to join the hunt.

‘By the powers, but those are capital sarsingers!’ observed Jack, smacking his lips and eating away for hard life.  ’Just look if my lord’s on his horse yet,’ added he to one of the children, who had begun to hover round the table and dive their fingers into the sweets.

‘No,’ replied the child; ‘he’s still on foot, playing with the dogs.’

‘Here goes, then,’ said Jack, ‘for another plate,’ suiting the action to the word, and running with his plate to the sausage-dish.

‘Have a hot one,’ exclaimed Mrs. Springwheat, adding, ’it will be done in a minute.’

‘No, thank ye,’ replied Jack, with a shake of the head, adding, ’I might be done in a minute too.’

‘He’ll wait for you, I suppose?’ observed Sponge, addressing Jack.

‘Not so clear about that,’ replied Jack, gobbling away; ’time and my lord wait for no man.  But it’s hardly the half-hour yet,’ added he, looking at his watch.

He then fell to with the voracity of a hound after hunting.  Sponge, too, made the most of his time, as did two or three others who still remained.

‘Now for the jumping-powder!’ at length exclaimed Sponge, looking round for the bottle.  ‘What shall it be, cherry or neat?’ continued he, pointing to the two.  ‘Cherry for me,’ replied Jack, squinting and eating away without looking up.

‘I say neat,’ rejoined Sponge, helping himself out of the French bottle.

‘You’ll be hard to hold after that,’ observed Jack, as he eyed Sponge tossing it off.

‘I hope my horse won’t,’ replied Sponge, remembering he was going to ride the resolute chestnut.

[Illustration]

‘You’ll show us the way, I dare say,’ observed Jack.

‘Shouldn’t wonder,’ replied Sponge, helping himself to a second glass.

‘What! at it again!’ exclaimed Jack, adding, ’Take care you don’t ride over my lord.’

‘I’ll take care of the old file,’ said Sponge; ’it wouldn’t do to kill the goose that lays the golden what-do-ye-call-’ems, you know—­he, he, he!’