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Crowdey, of 'O Anna Maria! Juliana Jane! O Frederick James, you naughty
boy! you'll spoil your new shoes! Archibald John, you'll be kilt! you'll be
run over to a certainty. O Jogglebury, you inhuman man!' continued she,
running and brandishing her alpaca parasol, 'you'll run over your children!
you'll run over your children!'
'My (puff) dear,' replied Jogglebury, looking coolly over his shoulder,'
how can they be (wheeze) run over behind?'
[Illustration]
So saying Jogglebury ground away at his leisure.


CHAPTER XLVI
PUDDINGPOTE BOWER, THE SEAT OF JOGGLEBURY CROWDEY, ESQ.

'Your good husband,' observed Mr. Sponge as he now overtook his hostess and
proceeded with her towards the house, 'has insisted upon bringing me over
to spend a few days till my friend Puffington recovers. He's just got the
gout. I said I was 'fraid it mightn't be quite convenient to you, but Mr.
Crowdey assured me you were in the habit of receivin' fox-hunters at short
notice; and so I have taken him at his word, you see, and come.


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