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Fossick, Fyle,
Bliss, and others, admitted that Hercules was not a bad-like horse; while
the humbler-minded ones eyed Sponge with a mixture of awe and envy,
thinking what a fine trade literature must be to stand such a horse.
'Is your friend What's-his-name, a workman?' asked Lord Scamperdale,
nodding towards Sponge as he trotted Hercules gently past on the turf by
the side of the road along which they were riding.
'Oh no,' replied Jawleyford tartly. 'Oh no--gentleman, man of property--'
'I did not mean was he a mechanic,' explained his lordship drily, 'but a
workman; a good 'un across country, in fact.' His lordship working his arms
as if he was going to set-to himself.
'Oh, a first-rate man!--first-rate man!' replied Jawleyford; 'beat them all
at Laverick Wells.'
'I thought so,' observed his lordship; adding to himself, 'then Jack shall
take the conceit out of him.'
'Jack!' halloaed he over his shoulder to his friend, who was jogging a
little behind; 'Jack!' repeated he, 'that Mr. Something--'
'_Sponge_!' observed Jawleyford, with an emphasis.


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