Digital primer

'I'll be with you directly,' replied Mr. Sponge, gulping down the remains
of his tea; adding, 'I've just got to run upstairs and get a cigar.' So
saying, he jumped up and disappeared.
Murry Ann, not approving of Sponge's smoking in his bedroom, had hid the
cigar-case under the toilet cover, at the back of the glass, and it was
some time before he found it.
Mrs. Jogglebury availed herself of the lapse of time, and his absence, to
pacify her young Turk, and try to coax him into reciting the marvellous
'Obin and Ichard.'
As Mr. Sponge came clanking downstairs with the cigar-case in his hand, she
met him (accidentally, of course) at the bottom, with the boy in her arms,
and exclaimed, 'O Mr. Sponge, here's Gustavus James wants to tell you a
little story.'
Mr. Sponge stopped--inwardly hoping that it would not be a long one.
'Now, my darling,' said she, sticking the boy up straight to get him to
begin.
'Now, then!' exclaimed Mr. Crowdey, in the true Jehu-like style, from the
vehicle at the door, in which he had composed himself.


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