'I did, I stuck to him to the last. I'd have been
with him now, only he couldn't get a manor at Boulogne, and a keeper was of
no use without one.'
'What, he went to Boulogne, did he?' observed Mr. Sponge.
'Aye, the more's the pity,' replied Watson. 'He was a gentleman, every inch
of him,' he added, with a shake of the head and a sigh, as if recurring to
more prosperous times. 'He was what a gentleman ought to be,' he continued,
'not one of your poor, pryin', inquisitive critturs, what's always fancyin'
themselves cheated. I ordered everything in my department, and paid for it
too; and never had a bill disputed or even commented on. I might have
charged for a ton of powder, and never had nothin' said.'
'Mr. Jawleyford's not likely to find his way to Boulogne, I suppose?'
observed Mr. Sponge.
'Not he!' exclaimed Watson, 'not he!--safe bird--_very_.'
'He's rich, I suppose?' continued Sponge, with an air of indifference.
'Why, _I_ should say he was; though others say he's not,' replied Watson,
cropping the old pony with the dog-whip, as it nearly fell on its nose.
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