Digital primer

When they reached
Chalkerley Gate it wanted ten minutes to eleven, and they had still three
miles to go.
'We shall be late,' observed Sponge inwardly denouncing 'Obin and Ichard.'
'Shouldn't wonder,' replied Jog, adding, with a puff into his frill,
'consequences of making me sick, you see.'
'My dear fellow, if you don't know your own stomach by this time, you did
ought to do,' replied Mr. Sponge.
'I (puff) flatter myself I _do_ (wheeze) my own stomach,' replied
Jogglebury tartly.
They then rumbled on for some time in silence.
When they came within sight of Snobston Green, the coast was clear. Not a
red coat, or hunting indication of any sort, was to be seen.
'I told you so (puff)!' growled Jog, blowing full into his frill, and
pulling up short.
'They be gone to Hackberry Dean,' said an old man, breaking stones by the
roadside.
'Hackberry Dean (puff)--Hackberry Dean (wheeze)!' replied Jog thoughtfully;
'then we must (puff) by Tollarton Mill, and through the (wheeze) village to
Stewley?' 'Y-e-a-z,' drawled the man.


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