'Very,' replied Mr. Sponge, wondering how such a thick-winded chap as Jog
managed to partake of it.
'Fine (puff, wheeze) appetizer,' observed Jogglebury, after another pause.
'It is,' replied Mr. Sponge.
Presently Jog began to snore, and as the increasing melody of his nose gave
little hopes of returning animation, Mr. Sponge had recourse to his old
friend _Mogg_ and amidst speculations as to time and distances, managed to
finish the port. We will now pass to the next morning.
Whatever deficiency there might be at dinner was amply atoned for at
breakfast, which was both good and abundant; bread and cake of all sorts,
eggs, muffins, toast, honey, jellies, and preserves without end. On the
side-table was a dish of hot kidneys and a magnificent red home-fed ham.
But a greater treat far, as Mrs. Jogglebury thought, was in the guests set
around. There were arranged all her tulips in succession, beginning with
that greatest of all wonders, Gustavus James, and running on with Anna
Maria, Frederick John, Juliana Jane, Margaret Henrietta, Sarah Amelia, down
to Peter William, the heir, who sat next his pa.
Pages:
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657