’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 gibbey-stick 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.

‘I should (puff) do no such thing,’ snorted her husband into his frill.  ’I should hope,’ continued he, speaking slowly and solemnly, ’that a (puff) wise ministry will purchase the whole (puff) collection for a (wheeze) grateful nation, when the (wheeze)’ something ‘is no more (wheeze).’  The concluding words being lost in the emotion of the speaker (as the reporters say).

‘Well, but will you go and call on Mr. Sponge, dear?’ asked Mrs. Jogglebury Crowdey, anxious as well to turn the subject as to make good her original point.

‘Well, my dear, I’ve no objection,’ replied Joggle, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye with his coat-cuff.

‘That’s a good soul!’ exclaimed Mrs. Jogglebury soothingly.  ’Go to-morrow, like a nice, sensible man.’

‘Very well,’ replied her now complacent spouse.

‘And ask him to come here,’ continued she.

’I can’t (puff) ask him to (puff) come, my dear (wheeze), until he (puff—­wheeze) returns my (puff) call.’

‘Oh, fiddle,’ replied his wife, ’you always say fox-hunters never stand upon ceremony; why should you stand upon any with him?’

Mr. Jogglebury was posed, and sat silent.

CHAPTER XLV

THE DISCOMFITED DIPLOMATIST