Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour

  CHAPTER XLV

  THE DISCOMFITED DIPLOMATIST

  Well, then, as we said before, when one door shuts another opens; and justas Mr. Puffington's door was closing on poor Mr. Sponge, who should cast upbut our newly introduced friend, Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey. Mr. Sponge wassitting in solitary state in the fine drawing-room, studying his old friend_Mogg_, calculating what he could ride from Spur Street, Leicester Square,by Short's Gardens, and across Waterloo Bridge, to the Elephant and Castlefor, when the grinding of a vehicle on the gravelled ring attracted hisattention. Looking out of the window, he saw a horse's head in a faded-red,silk-fronted bridle, with the letters 'J.C.' on the winkers; not 'J.C.'writhing in the elegant contortions of modern science, but 'J.C.' in thegood, plain, matter-of-fact characters we have depicted above.

  'That'll be the doctor,' said Mr. Sponge to himself, as he resumed hisreading and calculations, amidst a peal of the door-bell, well calculatedto arouse the whole house. 'He's a good un to ring!' added he, looking upand wondering when the last lingering tinkle would cease.

  Before the fact was ascertained, there was a hurried tramp of feet past thedrawing-room door, and presently the entrance one opened and let in--a rushof wind.

  'Is Mr. Sponge at home?' demanded a slow, pompous-speaking, deep-tonedvoice, evidently from the vehicle.

  'Yez-ur,' was the immediate answer.

  'Who can that be?' exclaimed Sponge, pocketing his _Mogg_.

  Then there was a creaking of springs and a jingling against iron steps, andpresently a high-blowing, heavy-stepping body was heard crossing theentrance-hall, while an out-stripping footman announced Mr. JoggleburyCrowdey, leaving the owner to follow his name at his leisure.

  Mrs. Jogglebury had insisted on Jog putting on his new black frock--a verylong coat, fitting like a sack, with the well-filled pockets baggingbehind, like a poor man's dinner wallet. In lieu of the shrunk and darnedwhite moleskins, receding in apparent disgust from the dingy tops, he hadgot his nether man enveloped in a pair of fine cinnamon-coloured tweeds,with broad blue stripes down the sides, and shaped out over the clumsyfoot.

  MR. JOGGLEBURY INTRODUCING HIMSELF TO MR. SPONGE]

  Puff, wheeze, puff, he now came waddling and labouring along, hat in hand,hurrying after the servant; puff, wheeze, puff, and he found himself in theroom. 'Your servant, sir,' said he, sticking himself out behind, andaddressing Mr. Sponge, making a ground sweep with his woolly hat.

  '_Yours_,' said Mr. Sponge, with a similar bow.

  'Fine day (puff--wheeze),' observed Mr. Jogglebury, blowing into his largefrill.

  'It is,' replied Mr. Sponge, adding, 'won't you be seated?'

  'How's Puffington?' gasped our visitor, sousing himself upon one of therosewood chairs in a way that threatened destruction to the slender fabric.

  'Oh, he's pretty middling, _I_ should say,' replied Sponge, now making uphis mind that he was addressing the doctor.

  'Pretty middlin' (puff),' repeated Jogglebury, blowing into his frill;'pretty middlin' (wheeze); I s'pose that means he's got a (puff) gumboil.My third (wheeze) girl, Margaret Henrietta has one.'

  'Do you want to see him?' asked Sponge, after a pause, which seemed toindicate that his friend's conversation had come to a period, or full stop.

  'No,' replied Jogglebury unconcernedly. 'No; I'll leave a (puff) card forhim (wheeze),' added he, fumbling in his wallet behind for his card-case.'My (puff) object is to pay my (wheeze) respects to you,' observed he,drawing a great carved Indian case from his pocket, and pulling off the topwith a noise like the drawing of a cork.

  'Much obliged for the compliment,' observed Mr. Sponge, as Joggleburyfumbled and broke his nails in attempting to get a card out.

  'Do you stay long in this part of the world?' asked he, as at last hesucceeded, and commenced tapping the corners of the card on the table.

  'I really don't know,' replied Mr. Sponge, as the particulars of hissituation flashed across his mind. Could this pudding-headed man be a chapPuffington had got to come and sound him, thought he.

  Jogglebury sat silent for a time, examining his feet attentively as if tosee they were pairs, and scrutinizing the bags of his cinnamon-colouredtrousers.

  'I was going to say (hem--cough--hem),' at length observed he, looking up,'that's to say, I was thinking (hem--wheeze--cough--hem), or rather Ishould say, Mrs. Jogglebury Crowdey sent me to say--I mean to say,'continued he, stamping one of his ponderous feet against the floor as if toforce out his words, 'Mrs. Jogglebury Crowdey and I would be glad--happy,that's to say (hem)--if you would arrange (hem) to (wheeze) pay us a visit(hem).'

  'Most happy, I'm sure!' exclaimed Mr. Sponge, jumping at the offer.

  'Before you go (hem),' continued our visitor, taking up the sentence whereSponge had interrupted him; 'I (hem) live about nine miles (hem) from here(hem).'

  'Are there any hounds in your neighbourhood?' asked Mr. Sponge.

  'Oh yes,' replied Mr. Jogglebury slowly; 'Mr. Puffington here draws up toGreatacre Gorse within a few (puff--wheeze) miles--say, three (puff)--of my(wheeze) house; and Sir Harry Scattercash (puff) hunts all the(puff--wheeze) country below, right away down to the (puff--wheeze) sea.'

  'Well, you're a devilish good fellow!' exclaimed Sponge; 'and I'll tell youwhat, as I'm sure you mean what you say, I'll take you at your word and goat once; and that'll give our friend here time to come round.'

  'Oh, but (puff--wheeze--gasp),' started Mr. Jogglebury, the blood rushingto his great yellow, whiskerless cheeks, 'I'm not quite (gasp) sure thatMrs. (gasp) Jogglebury (puff) Crowdey would be (puff--wheeze--gasp)prepared.'

  'Oh, _hang_ preparation!' interrupted Mr. Sponge. 'I'll take you as youare. Never mind me. I hate being made company of. Just treat me like one ofyourselves; toad-in-the-hole, dog-in-the-blanket, beef-steaks andoyster-sauce, rabbits and onions--anything; nothing comes amiss to me.'

  So saying, and while Jogglebury sat purple and unable to articulate, Mr.Sponge applied his hand to the ivory bell-knob and sounded an imposingpeal. Mr. Jogglebury sat wondering what was going to happen, and thinkingwhat a wigging he would get from Mrs. J. if he didn't manage to shake offhis friend. Above all, he recollected that they had nothing but haddocksand hashed mutton for dinner.

  'Tell Leather I want him,' said Mr. Sponge, in a tone of authority, as thefootman answered the summons; then, turning to his guest, as the man wasleaving the room, he said, 'Won't you take something after your drive--coldmeat, glass of sherry, soda-water, bottled porter--anything in that line?'

  In an ordinary way, Jogglebury would have said, 'if you please,' at thesound of the words 'cold meat,' for he was a dead hand at luncheon; but thefix he was in completely took away his appetite, and he sat wheezing andthinking whether to make another effort, or to wait the arrival of Leather.

  Presently Leather appeared, jean-jacketed and gaitered, smoothing his hairover his forehead, after the manner of the brotherhood.

  'Leather,' said Mr. Sponge, in the same tone of importance, 'I'm going tothis gentleman's'; for as yet he had not sufficiently mastered the name tobe able to venture upon it in the owner's presence. 'Leather, I'm going tothis gentleman's, and I want you to bring me a horse over in the morning;or stay,' said he, interrupting himself, and, turning to Jogglebury, heexclaimed, 'I dare say you could manage to put me up a couple of horses,couldn't you? and then we should be all cosy and jolly together, you know.'

  ''Pon my word,' gasped Jogglebury nearly choked by the proposal; ''pon myword, I can hardly (puff) say, I hardly (wheeze) know, but if you'll(puff--wheeze) allow me, I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll (puff--wheeze)home, and see what I can (puff) do in the way of entertainment for(puff--wheeze) man as well as for (puff--wheeze) horse.'

  'Oh, _thank you_, my dear fellow!' exclaimed Sponge, seeing the intendeddodge; '_thank you_, my dear fellow!' repeated he; 'but that's giving youtoo much trouble--_far_ too much trouble!--couldn't think of such athing--no, indeed, I couldn't. _I'll_ tell you what we'll do--_I'll_ tellyou what we'll do. You s
hall drive me over in that shandrydan-rattle-trapthing of yours'--Sponge looking out of the window, as he spoke, at thequeer-shaped, jumped-together, lack-lustre-looking vehicle, with aturnover seat behind, now in charge of a pepper-and-salt attired youth,with a shabby hat, looped up by a thin silver cord to an acorn on thecrown, and baggy Berlin gloves--'and I'll just see what there is in the wayof stabling; and if I think it will do, then I'll give a boy sixpence or ashilling to come over to Leather, here,' jerking his head towards hisfactotum; 'if it won't do, why then--'

  'We shall want _three_ stalls, sir--recollect, sir, 'interrupted Leather,who did not wish to move his quarters.

  'True, I forgot,' replied Sponge, with a frown at his servant'sofficiousness; 'however, if we can get two good stalls for the hunters,'said he, 'we'll manage the hack somehow or other.'

  'Well,' replied Mr. Leather, in a tone of resignation, knowing how hopelessit was arguing with his master.

  'I really think,' gasped Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey, encouraged by the apparentsympathy of the servant to make a last effort, 'I really think,' repeatedhe, as the hashed mutton and haddocks again flashed across his mind, 'thatmy (puff--wheeze) plan is the (puff) best; let me (puff--wheeze) home andsee how all (puff--wheeze) things are, and then I'll write you a(puff--wheeze) line, or send a (puff--wheeze) servant over.'

  'Oh no,' replied Mr. Sponge, 'oh no--that's far too much trouble. I'll justgo over with you now and reconnoitre.'

  'I'm afraid Mrs. (puff--wheeze) Crowdey will hardly be prepared for(puff--wheeze) visitors,' ejaculated our friend, recollecting it waswashing-day, and that Mary Ann would be wanted in the laundry.

  'Don't mention it!' exclaimed Mr. Sponge; 'don't mention it. I hate to bemade company of. Just give me what you have yourselves--just give me whatyou have yourselves. Where two can dine, three can dine, you know.'

  Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey was nonplussed.

  'Well, now,' said Mr. Sponge, turning again to Leather; 'just go upstairsand help me to pack up my things; and,' addressing himself to our visitor,he said, 'perhaps you'll amuse yourself with the paper--the _Post_--orI'll lend you my _Mogg_,' continued he, offering the little gilt-lettered,purple-backed volume as he spoke.

  'Thank'ee,' replied Mr. Jogglebury, who was still tapping away at the card,which he had now worked very soft.

  Mr. Sponge then left him with the volume in his hand, and proceededupstairs to his bedroom.

  In less than twenty minutes, the vehicle was got under way, Mr. JoggleburyCrowdey and Mr. Sponge occupying the roomy seats in front, and BartholomewBadger, the before-mentioned tiger, and Mr. Sponge's portmanteau andcarpet-bag, being in the very diminutive turnover seat behind. The carriagewas followed by the straining eyes of sundry Johns and Janes, whounanimously agreed that Mr. Sponge was the meanest, shabbiest gent they hadever had in _their_ house. Mr. Leather was, therefore, roasted in theservants' hall, where the sins of the masters are oft visited upon theservants.

  But to our travellers.

  Little conversation passed between our friends for the first few miles,for, in addition to the road being rough, the driving-seat was so high, andthe other so low, that Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey's parables broke against Mr.Sponge's hat-crown, instead of dropping into his ear; besides which, theunwilling host's mind was a good deal occupied with wishing that there hadbeen three haddocks instead of two, and speculating whether Mrs. Crowdeywould be more pleased at the success of his mission, or put out of her wayby Mr. Sponge's unexpected coming. Above all, he had marked some verypromising-looking sticks--two blackthorns and a holly--to cut on his wayhome, and he was intent on not missing them. So sudden was the jerk thatannounced his coming on the first one, as nearly to throw the old familyhorse on his knees, and almost to break Mr. Sponge's nose against the brassedge of the cocked-up splash-board. Ere Mr. Sponge recovered hisequilibrium, the whip was in the case, the reins dangling about the oldscrew's heels, and Mr. Crowdey scrambling up a steep bank to where a verythick boundary-hedge shut out the view of the adjacent country. Presently,chop, chop, chop, was heard, from Mr. Crowdey's pocket axe, with atug--wheeze--puff from himself; next a crash of separation; and then thepurple-faced Mr. Crowdey came bearing down the bank dragging a greatblackthorn bush after him.

  'What have you got there?' inquired Mr. Sponge, with surprise.

  'Got! (wheeze--puff--wheeze),' replied Mr. Crowdey, pulling up short, andmopping his perspiring brow with a great claret-coloured bandana. 'Got!I've (puff--wheeze) got what I (wheeze) think will (puff) into a mostelaborate and (wheeze) valuable walking-stick. This I (puff) think,'continued he, eyeing the great ball with which he had got it up, 'will(wheeze) come in most valuably (puff) for my great (puff--wheeze--gasp)national undertaking--the (puff) Kings and (wheeze) Queens of Great Britain(gasp).'

  'What are _they_?' asked Mr. Sponge, astonished at his vehemence.

  'Oh! (puff--wheeze--gasp) haven't you heard?' exclaimed Mr. Jogglebury,taking off his great woolly hat, and giving his lank, dark hair, streakedwith grey, a sweep round his low forehead with the bandana. 'Oh!(puff--gasp) haven't you heard?' repeated he, getting a little morebreath. 'I'm (wheeze) undertaking a series of (gasp) sticks,representing--(gasp)--immortalizing, I may say (puff), all the (wheeze)crowned heads of England (puff).'

  'Indeed!' replied Mr. Sponge.

  'They'll be a most valuable collection (wheeze--puff),' continued Mr.Jogglebury, still eyeing the knob. 'This,' added he, 'shall be William theFourth.' He then commenced lopping and docking the sides, makingBartholomew Badger bury them in a sand-pit hard by, observing, in aconfidential wheeze to Mr. Sponge, 'that he had once been county-courtedfor a similar trespass before.' The top and lop being at length disposedof, Mr. Crowdey, grasping the club-end, struck the other forcibly againstthe ground, exclaiming, 'There!--there's a (puff) stick! Who knows whatthat (puff--wheeze) stick may be worth some day?'

  He then bundled into his carriage and drove on.

  Two more stoppages marked their arrival at the other sticks, which beingduly captured and fastened within the straps of the carriage-apron, Mr.Crowdey drove on somewhat more at ease in his mind, at all events somewhatcomforted at the thoughts of having increased his wealth. He did not becometalkative--indeed that was not his forte, but he puffed into hisshirt-frill, and made a few observations, which, if they did not possessmuch originality, at all events showed that he was not asleep.

  'Those are draining-tiles,' said he, after a hearty stare at a cart-load.Then about five minutes after he blew again, and said, 'I don't think(puff) that (wheeze) draining without (gasp) manuring will constitute highfarming (puff).'

  So he jolted and wheezed, and jerked and jagged the old quadruped's mouth,occasionally hissing between his teeth, and stamping against the bottom ofthe carriage, when other persuasive efforts failed to induce it to keep upthe semblance of a trot. At last the ill-supported hobble died out into awalk, and Mr. Crowdey, complacently dropping his fat hand on his fat knees,seemed to resign himself to his fate.

  So they crawled along the up-and-downy piece of road below Poplartonplantations, Mr. Jogglebury keeping a sharp eye upon the underwood forsticks. After passing these, they commenced the gradual ascent ofRoundington Hill, when a sudden sweep of the road brought them in view ofthe panorama of the rich Vale of Butterflower.

  'There's a snug-looking box,' observed Sponge, as he at length espied aconfused jumble of gable-ends and chimney-pots rising from amidst a clumpof Scotch firs and other trees, looking less like a farmhouse than anythinghe had seen.

  'That's my house (puff); that's Puddingpote Bower (wheeze),' repliedCrowdey slowly and pompously, adding an 'e' to the syllable, to make itsound better, the haddocks, hashed mutton, and all the horrors of impromptuhospitality rushing upon his mind.

  Things began to look worse the nearer he got home. He didn't care toaggravate the old animal into a trot. He again wondered whether Mrs. J.would be pleased at the success of his mission, or angry at the unexpectedcoming.

  'Where are the stables?' asked Sponge,
as he scanned the in-and-outirregularities of the building.

  'Stables (wheeze), stables (puff),' repeated Crowdey--thinking of histroubles--of its being washing-day, and Mary Ann, or Murry Ann, as hecalled her, the under-butler, being engaged; of Bartholomew Badger havingthe horse and fe-_a_-ton to clean, &c.--'stables,' repeated he for thethird time; 'stables are at the back, behind, in fact; you'll see a (puff)vane--a (wheeze) fox, on the top.'

  'Ah, indeed!' replied Mr. Sponge, brightening up, thinking there would beold hay and corn.

  They now came to a half-Swiss, half-Gothic little cottage of a lodge, andthe old horse turned instinctively into the open white gate with pea-greenbands.

  'Here's Mrs. Crow--Crow--Crowdey!' gasped Jogglebury, convulsively, as atall woman, in flare-up red and yellow stunner tartan, with a swarm oflittle children, similarly attired, suddenly appeared at an angle of theroad, the lady handling a great alpaca umbrella-looking parasol in thestand-and-deliver style.

  'What's kept you?' exclaimed she, as the vehicle got within ear-shot.'What's kept you?' repeated she, in a sharper key, holding her parasolacross the road, but taking no notice of our friend Sponge, who, in truth,she took for Edgebone, the butcher. 'Oh! you've been after your sticks,have you?' added she, as her spouse drew the vehicle up alongside of her,and she caught the contents of the apron-straps.

  'My dear (puff)' gasped her husband, 'I've brought Mr. (wheeze) Sponge,'said he, winking his right eye, and jerking his head over his leftshoulder, looking very frightened all the time. 'Mr. (puff) Sponge, Mrs.(gasp) Jogglebury (wheeze) Crowdey,' continued he, motioning with his hand.

  Finding himself in the presence of his handsome hostess, Sponge made herone of his best bows, and offered to resign his seat in the carriage toher. This she declined, alleging that she had the children withher--looking round on the grinning, gaping group, the majority of them withtheir mouths smeared with lollipops. Crowdey, who was not so stupid as helooked, was nettled at Sponge's attempting to fix his wife upon him atsuch a critical moment, and immediately retaliated with, 'P'raps (puff)you'd like to (puff) out and (wheeze) walk.'

  There was no help for this, and Sponge having alighted, Mr. Crowdey said,half to Mr. Sponge and half to his fine wife, 'Then (puff--wheeze) I'lljust (puff) on and get Mr. (wheeze) Sponge's room ready.' So saying, hegave the old nag a hearty jerk with the bit, and two or three longitudinalcuts with the knotty-pointed whip, and jingled away with a bevy of childrenshouting, hanging on, and dragging behind, amidst exclamations from Mrs.Crowdey, of 'O Anna Maria! Juliana Jane! O Frederick James, you naughtyboy! you'll spoil your new shoes! Archibald John, you'll be kilt! you'll berun over to a certainty. O Jogglebury, you inhuman man!' continued she,running and brandishing her alpaca parasol, 'you'll run over your children!you'll run over your children!'

  'My (puff) dear,' replied Jogglebury, looking coolly over his shoulder,'how can they be (wheeze) run over behind?'

  So saying Jogglebury ground away at his leisure.