'
Mrs. Jogglebury, who was still out of wind from her run after the carriage,
assured him that she was extremely happy to see him, though she couldn't
help thinking what a noodle Jog was to bring a stranger on a washing-day.
That, however, was a point she would reserve for Jog.
Just then a loud outburst from the children announced the approach of the
eighth wonder of the world, in the person of Gustavus James in the nurse's
arms, with a curly blue feather nodding over his nose. Mrs. Jogglebury's
black eyes brightened with delight as she ran forward to meet him; and in
her mind's eye she saw him inheriting a splendid mansion, with a retinue of
powdered footmen in pea-green liveries and broad gold-laced hats.
Great--prospectively great, at least--as had been her successes in the
sponsor line with her other children, she really thought, getting Mr.
Sponge for a god-papa for Gustavus James eclipsed all her other doings.
Mr. Sponge, having been liberal in his admiration of the other children, of
course could not refuse unbounded applause to the evident object of a
mother's regards; and, chucking the young gentleman under his double chin,
asked him how he was, and said something about something he had in his
'box,' alluding to a paper of cheap comfits he had bought at Sugarchalk's,
the confectioner's, sale in Oxford Street, and which he carried about for
contingencies like the present.
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