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Spraggon; also Mr. Sponge? Mr.
Spraggon,' continued she, with a wave of her hand to where our hero was
ensconced in his form, in case they should not have made each other's
speaking acquaintance.
The young ladies rose, and curtsied prettily; while Mr. Sponge gave a sort
of backward hitch of his head as he sat in his chair, as much as to say, 'I
know as much of Mr. Spraggon as I want.'
'Tell your master Mr. Spraggon is here,' added Mrs. Jawleyford to Spigot,
as that worthy was leaving the room. 'It's a cold day, Mr. Spraggon; won't
you come near the fire?' continued Mrs. Jawleyford, addressing our friend,
who had come to a full stop just under the chandelier in the centre of the
room. 'Hem--cough--hem--thank ye, mum,' muttered Jack. 'I'm
not--hem--cough--cold, thank ye, mum.' His face and hands were purple
notwithstanding.
'How is my Lord Scamperdale?' asked Amelia, who had a strong inclination to
keep in with all parties.
'Hem--cough--hem--my lord--that's to say, my lady--hem--cough--I mean to
say, my lord's pretty well, thank ye,' stuttered Jack.


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