''Ord bless you, no, sir,' replied Watson with a leer; 'there's nothin' in
them but a couple of weedy hacks and a pair of old worn-out
carriage-horses.'
'Then I can get this hack taken in, at all events,' observed Sponge, laying
his hand on the neck of the piebald as he spoke.
'Why, as to that,' replied Mr. Watson, with a shake of the head, 'I can't
say nothin'.'
'I must, though,' rejoined Sponge, tartly; 'he _said_ he'd take in my hack,
or I wouldn't have come.'
'Well, sir,' observed the keeper, 'you know best, sir.'
'Confounded screw!' muttered Sponge, turning away to give his orders to
Leather. 'I'll _work_ him for it,' he added. 'He sha'n't get rid of _me_ in
a hurry--at least, not unless I can get a better billet elsewhere.'
Having arranged the parting with Leather, and got a cart to carry his
things, Mr. Sponge mounted the piebald, and put himself under the guidance
of Watson to be conducted to his destination. The first part of the journey
was performed in silence, Mr. Sponge not being particularly well pleased at
the reception his request to have his horses taken in had met with.
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