Altogether he was full of troubles,
vexations, and annoyances; and after spending another most disagreeable
evening with our friend Sponge, went to bed more determined than ever to
get rid of him.
CHAPTER LVI
NONSUCH HOUSE AGAIN
Poor Jog again varied his hints the next morning. After sundry prefatory
'Murry Anns!' and 'Bar-tho-lo-_mews_!' he at length got the latter to
answer, when, raising his voice so as to fill the whole house, he desired
him to go to the stable, and let Mr. Sponge's man know his master would be
(wheezing) away.
'You're wrong there, old buck,' growled Leather, as he heard the foregoing;
'he's half-way to Sir 'Arry's by this time.'
And sure enough, Mr. Sponge was, as none knew better than Leather, who had
got him his horse, the hack being indisposed--that is to say, having been
out all night with Mr. Leather on a drinking excursion, Leather having just
got home in time to receive the purple-coated, bare-footed runner of
Nonsuch House, who dropped in, _en passant_, to see if there was anything
to stow away in his roomy trouser-pockets, and leave word that Sir Harry
was going to hunt, and would meet before the house.
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