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Sponge skilfully
parried. So, at last, Mr. Puffington scrawled a miserable-looking note,
explaining how very ill he was, how he regretted being deprived of Mr.
Sponge's agreeable society, but hoping that it would suit Mr. Sponge to
return as soon as he was better and pay the remainder of his visit--a
pretty intelligible notice to quit, and one which even the cool Mr. Sponge
was rather at a loss how to parry.
He did not like the aspect of affairs. In addition to having to spend the
evening by himself, the cook sent him a very moderate dinner, smoked soup,
sodden fish, scraggy cutlets, and sour pudding. Mr. Plummey, too, seemed to
have put all the company bottle-ends together for him. This would not do.
If Sponge could have satisfied himself that his host would not be better in
a day or two, he would have thought seriously of leaving; but as he could
not bring himself to think that he would not, and, moreover, had no place
to go to, had it not been for the concluding portion of Mr. Puffington's
note, he would have made an effort to stay.


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