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'
'A convenient sort of gentleman,' observed Mr. Sponge, thinking he, too,
might accommodate him.
The fly-man now touched his hat, indicative of a wish to be off, having a
fare waiting elsewhere. Mr. Sponge directed him to proceed to the Brunswick
Hotel, while, accompanied by Leather, he proceeded on foot to the stables.
Mr. Leather, of course, had the valuable stud under lock and key, with
every crevice and air-hole well stuffed with straw, as if they had been the
most valuable horses in the world. Having produced the ring-key from his
pocket, Mr. Leather opened the door, and having got his master in, speedily
closed it, lest a breath of fresh air might intrude. Having lighted a
lucifer, he turned on the gas, and exhibited the blooming-coated horses,
well littered in straw, showing that he was not the man to pay
four-and-twenty shillings a week for nothing. Mr. Sponge stood eyeing them
for some seconds with evident approbation.
'If any one asks you about the horses, you can say they are _mine_, you
know,' at length observed he casually, with an emphasis on the mine.


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