The two then sat silent for some minutes, Jogglebury still contemplating
the progressing head of Lord Brougham, and recalling the eye and features
that some five-and-twenty years before had nearly withered him in a breach
of promise action, 'Smiler _v_. Jogglebury,'[3] that being our friend's
name before his uncle Crowdey left him his property.
[Illustration]
Mrs. Jogglebury having an object in view, and knowing that, though
Jogglebury might lead, he would not drive, availed herself of the lull to
trim her sail, to try and catch him on the other tack.
'Well, Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey,' said she, in a passive tone of regret, 'I
certainly thought however indifferent you might be to me' (and here she
applied her handkerchief--rather a coarse one--to her eyes) 'that still you
had some regard for the interests of your (sob) children'; and here the
waterfalls of her beady black eyes went off in a gush.
'Well, my dear,' replied Jogglebury, softened, 'I'm (puff) sure I'm
(wheeze) anxious for my (puff) children. You don't s'pose if I wasn't
(puff), I'd (wheeze) labour as I (puff--wheeze) do to leave them
fortins?'--alluding to his exertions in the gibbey-stick line.
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