[Illustration:  MR. SPONGE AND THE MISSES JAWLEYFORD]

The plot then began to thicken.  First came Jawleyford, in a terrible stew.

‘Well, this is too bad!’ exclaimed he, stamping and flourishing a scented note, with a crest and initials at the top.  ‘This is too bad,’ repeated he; ‘people accepting invitations, and then crying off at the last moment.’

‘Who is it can’t come, papa—­the Foozles?’ asked Emily.

‘No—­Foozles be hanged,’ sneered Jawleyford; ’they always come—­the Blossomnoses!’ replied he, with an emphasis.

‘The Blossomnoses!’ exclaimed both girls, clasping their hands and looking up at the ceiling.

‘What, all of them?’ asked Emily.

‘All of them,’ rejoined Jawleyford.

‘Why, that’s four,’ observed Emily.

‘To be sure it is,’ replied Jawleyford; ’five, if you count them by appetites; for old Blossom always eats and drinks as much as two people.’

‘What excuse do they give?’ asked Amelia.

‘Carriage-horse taken suddenly ill,’ replied Jawleyford; ’as if that’s any excuse when there are post-horses within half a dozen miles.’

‘He wouldn’t have been stopped hunting for want of a horse, I dare say,’ observed Amelia.

‘I dare say it’s all a lie,’ observed Jawleyford; adding, ’however, the invitation shall go for a dinner, all the same.’

The denunciation was interrupted by the appearance of Spigot, who came looming up the spacious drawing-room in the full magnificence of black shorts, silk stockings, and buckled pumps, followed by a sheepish-looking, straight-haired, red apple-faced young gentleman, whom he announced as Mr. Robert Foozle.  Robert was the hope of the house of Foozle; and it was fortunate his parents were satisfied with him, for few other people were.  He was a young gentleman who shook hands with everybody, assented to anything that anybody said, and in answering a question, wherein indeed his conversation chiefly consisted, he always followed the words of the interrogation as much as he could.  For instance:  ’Well, Robert, have you been at Dulverton to-day?’ Answer, ‘No, I’ve not been at Dulverton to-day.’  Question, ‘Are you going to Dulverton to-morrow?’ Answer, ’No, I’m not going to Dulverton to-morrow.’  Having shaken hands with the party all round, and turned to the fire to warm his red fists, Jawleyford having stood at ‘attention’ for such time as he thought Mrs. Foozle would be occupied before the glass in his study arranging her head-gear, and seeing no symptoms of any further announcement, at last asked Foozle if his papa and mamma were not coming.

‘No, my papa and mamma are not coming,’ replied he.

‘Are you sure?’ asked Jawleyford, in a tone of excitement.

‘Quite sure,’ replied Foozle, in the most matter-of-course voice.

[Illustration:  MR. ROBERT FOOZLE]

‘The deuce!’ exclaimed Jawleyford, stamping his foot upon the soft rug, adding, ‘it never rains but it pours!’