'
'Oh, but (puff--wheeze--gasp),' started Mr. Jogglebury, the blood rushing
to his great yellow, whiskerless cheeks, 'I'm not quite (gasp) sure that
Mrs. (gasp) Jogglebury (puff) Crowdey would be (puff--wheeze--gasp)
prepared.'
'Oh, _hang_ preparation!' interrupted Mr. Sponge. 'I'll take you as you
are. Never mind me. I hate being made company of. Just treat me like one of
yourselves; toad-in-the-hole, dog-in-the-blanket, beef-steaks and
oyster-sauce, rabbits and onions--anything; nothing comes amiss to me.'
So saying, and while Jogglebury sat purple and unable to articulate, Mr.
Sponge applied his hand to the ivory bell-knob and sounded an imposing
peal. Mr. Jogglebury sat wondering what was going to happen, and thinking
what a wigging he would get from Mrs. J. if he didn't manage to shake off
his friend. Above all, he recollected that they had nothing but haddocks
and hashed mutton for dinner.
'Tell Leather I want him,' said Mr. Sponge, in a tone of authority, as the
footman answered the summons; then, turning to his guest, as the man was
leaving the room, he said, 'Won't you take something after your drive--cold
meat, glass of sherry, soda-water, bottled porter--anything in that line?'
In an ordinary way, Jogglebury would have said, 'if you please,' at the
sound of the words 'cold meat,' for he was a dead hand at luncheon; but the
fix he was in completely took away his appetite, and he sat wheezing and
thinking whether to make another effort, or to wait the arrival of Leather.
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