So Mr. Sponge fled, consoling himself with the reflection that there was no harm done, and hoping for ‘better luck next time.’

He roved from flower to flower like a butterfly, touching here, alighting there, but always passing away with apparent indifference.  He knew if he couldn’t square matters at short notice, he would have no better chance with an extension of time; so, if he saw things taking the direction of inquiry he would just laugh the offer off, pretend he was only feeling his way—­saw he was not acceptable—­sorry for it—­and away he would go to somebody else.  He looked upon a woman much in the light of a horse; if she didn’t suit one man, she would another, and there was no harm in trying.  So he puffed and smoked, and smoked and puffed—­gliding gradually into wealth and prosperity.

[Illustration:  MR. SPONGE AS HE APPEARED IN THE BEST BEDROOM]

A second cigar assisted his comprehension considerably—­just as a second bottle of wine not only helps men through their difficulties, but shows them the way to unbounded wealth.  Many of the bright railway schemes of former days, we make no doubt, were concocted under the inspiring influence of the bottle.  Sponge now saw everything as he wished.  All the errors of his former days were apparent to him.  He saw how indiscreet it was confiding in Miss Trickery’s cousin, the major; why the rich widow at Chesterfield had chasseed him; and how he was done out of the beautiful Miss Rainbow, with her beautiful estate, with its lake, its heronry, and its perpetual advowson.  Other mishaps he also considered.

Having disposed of the past, he then turned his attention to the future.  Here were two beautiful girls apparently full of money, between whom there wasn’t the toss-up of a halfpenny for choice.  Most exemplary parents, too, who didn’t seem to care a farthing about money.

He then began speculating on what the girls would have.  ’Great house—­great establishment—­great estate, doubtless.  Why, confound it,’ continued he, casting his heavy eye lazily around, ’here’s a room as big as a field in a cramped country!  Can’t have less than fifty thousand a-piece, I should say, at the least.  Jawleyford, to be sure, is young,’ thought he; ’may live a long time’ (puff).  ’If Mrs. J. were to die (Curse—­the cigar’s burnt my lips’), added he, throwing the remnant into the fire, and rolling out of the chair to prepare for turning into bed.

If any one had told Sponge that there was a rich papa and mamma on the look-out merely for amiable young men to bestow their fair daughters upon, he would have laughed them to scorn, and said, ’Why, you fool, they are only laughing at you’; or ’Don’t you see they are playing you off against somebody else?’ But our hero, like other men, was blind where he himself was concerned, and concluded that he was the exception to the general rule.

Mr. and Mrs. Jawleyford had their consultation too.