Digital primer

'That's my house (puff); that's Puddingpote Bower (wheeze),' replied
Crowdey slowly and pompously, adding an 'e' to the syllable, to make it
sound better, the haddocks, hashed mutton, and all the horrors of impromptu
hospitality rushing upon his mind.
Things began to look worse the nearer he got home. He didn't care to
aggravate the old animal into a trot. He again wondered whether Mrs. J.
would be pleased at the success of his mission, or angry at the unexpected
coming.
'Where are the stables?' asked Sponge, as he scanned the in-and-out
irregularities of the building.
'Stables (wheeze), stables (puff),' repeated Crowdey--thinking of his
troubles--of its being washing-day, and Mary Ann, or Murry Ann, as he
called her, the under-butler, being engaged; of Bartholomew Badger having
the horse and fe-_a_-ton to clean, &c.--'stables,' repeated he for the
third time; 'stables are at the back, behind, in fact; you'll see a (puff)
vane--a (wheeze) fox, on the top.'
'Ah, indeed!' replied Mr. Sponge, brightening up, thinking there would be
old hay and corn.


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