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Jog quaffed quantities of foaming bottled porter during the progress of it, and threw himself back in his chair at the end, as if thoroughly overcome with his exertions. Scarcely were the wine and dessert set on, ere a violent outbreak in the nursery caused Mrs. Crowdey to hurry away, leaving Mr. Sponge to enjoy the company of her husband. 'With all my heart, replied our hero, filling up.
Sponge was persuasive enough to induce him to accompany him, and it was finally arranged that Leather should go on with the horses, and Jog should drive Sponge to cover in the phe-a-ton. Mrs. Jogglebury Crowdey was a good deal disconcerted at Gustavus James's irreverence to his intended god-papa, and did her best, both by promises and entreaties, to bring him to a more becoming state of mind.
He kept his hand in his pocket till he came close up to the gate, when, suddenly drawing it out, he said: 'Oh, hang it! I've left my purse at home! Never mind, drive on, said he to his host; exclaiming to the man, 'it's Mr. Crowdey's carriage Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey's carriage! Mr. Crowdey, the chairman of the Stir-it-stiff Poor-Law Union!
Then there was a creaking of springs and a jingling against iron steps, and presently a high-blowing, heavy-stepping body was heard crossing the entrance-hall, while an out-stripping footman announced Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey, leaving the owner to follow his name at his leisure. Mrs.
Jogglebury, who was still tapping away at the card, which he had now worked very soft. Mr. Sponge then left him with the volume in his hand, and proceeded upstairs to his bedroom. In less than twenty minutes, the vehicle was got under way, Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey and Mr. Sponge occupying the roomy seats in front, and Bartholomew Badger, the before-mentioned tiger, and Mr.
Two more stoppages marked their arrival at the other sticks, which being duly captured and fastened within the straps of the carriage-apron, Mr. Crowdey drove on somewhat more at ease in his mind, at all events somewhat comforted at the thoughts of having increased his wealth.
I'll trouble you for the sugar, Mrs. Jogglebury'; adding, 'you have devilish good cream here; how many cows have you? 'Oh, two, replied Mrs. Jogglebury tartly, vexed at the interruption. 'Not in milk. Jog not in milk, retorted Mrs. Crowdey. 'Three cows, Mrs. 'Well; but when people talk of cream, and ask how many cows you have, they mean in milk, Mister Jogglebury Crowdey. 'Not necessarily.
Murry Ann! in such a way that Mary Ann thought either that the cat had got young Crowdey, or the house was on fire. 'Oh! Murry Ann! exclaimed Mr. 'Oh, indeed, sir, replied Mary Ann, smiling, and dropping down her sleeves glad to find it was no worse. They then proceeded upstairs together.
But such children as ours! such charmers! such delights! there isn't a man in the county, from the Lord-Lieutenant downwards, who wouldn't be proud who wouldn't think it a compliment to be asked to be god-papa to such children. I tell you what, Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey, it would be far better to get them rich god-papas and god-mammas than to leave them a whole house full of sticks.
Sponge had taken refuge, determined not to meet within reach of Puddingpote Bower, if he could possibly help it; and Lord Scamperdale was almost always beyond distance, unless horse and rider lay out over-night a proceeding always deprecated by prudent sportsmen. Mr. Sponge, therefore, got more of Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey's company than he wanted, and Mr. Crowdey got more of Mr.
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