'What's here?' repeated he, as he inspected the direction.
'Oh, it's for _you_!' exclaimed he, chucking it over to Jack, considerably
relieved by the discovery.
'_Me!_' replied Jack. 'Who can be writing to me?' said he, squinting his
eyes inside out at the seal. He opened it: 'Jawleyford Court,' read he.
'Who the deuce can be writing to me from Jawleyford Court when I'm going
there?'
'A put-off, for a guinea!' exclaimed his lordship.
'Hope so,' muttered Jack.
'Hope _not_,' replied his lordship.
'It is!' exclaimed Jack, reading, 'Dear Mr. Spraggon,' and so on.
'The humbug!' muttered Lord Scamperdale, adding, 'I'll be bound he's got no
more influenza than I have.'
'Well,' observed Jack, sweeping a red cotton handkerchief, with which he
had been protecting his leathers, off into his pocket, 'there's an end of
that.'
'Don't go so quick,' replied his lordship, ladling in the porridge.
'Quick!' retorted Jack; 'why, what can you do?'
'_Do!_ why, _go_ to be sure,' replied his lordship.
'How can I go,' asked Jack, 'when the sinner's written to put me off?'
'Nicely,' replied his lordship, 'nicely.
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