'
'What farmer was it?' asked Jog, with the butter streaming down the gutters
of his chin from a mouthful of thick toast. 'Farmer--farmer--farmer--let
me see, what farmer it was,' replied Mr. Sponge thoughtfully, again
attacking the kidneys. 'Oh, farmer Beanstraw, I should say.'
'_Pea_straw, p'raps?' suggested Jog, colouring up, and staring intently at
Mr. Sponge.
'Pea--Peastraw was the name,' replied Mr. Sponge.
'I know him,' said Jog; 'Peastraw of Stoke.'
'Ah, he said he knew you.' replied Mr. Sponge.
'Did he?' asked Jog eagerly. 'What did he say?'
'Say--let me see what he said,' replied he, pretending to recollect.' He
said "you are a deuced good feller," and I'd to make his compliments to
you, and to say that there were some nice young ash saplings on his farm
that you were welcome to cut.'
'Did he?' exclaimed Jog; 'I'm sure that's very (puff) polite of him. I'll
(wheeze) over there the first opportunity.'
'And what did you make of Sir Harry?' asked Mrs. Jog.
'Did you (puff) say you were going to (wheeze) over to him?' asked Jog
eagerly.
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