Sponge's chestnut, and you
know I did, you know.'
'Hout, lad, disperse!--get out of this!' exclaimed Jack, starting his great
red face above the bedclothes and squinting frightfully at Pacey.
'Well, my dear friend, but you did,' observed Pacey soothingly.
'Nonsense!' roared Jack, again ducking under.
Pacey stood agape.
'Come!' exclaimed Jack, again starting up, 'cut your stick!--be off!--make
yourself scarce!--give your rags a gallop, in short!--don't be after
disturbin' a gen'leman of fortin's rest in this way.'
'But, my dear Mr. Spraggon,' resumed Pacey, in the same gentle tone, 'you
surely forget what you asked me to do.'
'_I do_,' replied Jack firmly.
'Well, but, my dear Mr. Spraggon, if you'll have the kindness to
recollect--to consider--to reflect on what passed, you'll surely remember
commissioning me to challenge Mr. Sponge's horse for you?'
'_Me!_' exclaimed Jack, bouncing up in bed, and sitting squinting
furiously. '_Me!_' repeated he; '_un_possible. How could _I_ do such a
thing? Why, I handicap'd him, man, for you, man?'
'You told me, for all that,' replied Mr.
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