e lamps were extinguished,
and the transparent wax gave way to Palmer's composites, under the mild
influence of whose unsearching light the young ladies sported their dashed
dresses with impunity. Competition between them, indeed, was about an end.
Amelia claimed Mr. Sponge, should he be worth having, and should the
Scamperdale scheme fail; while Emily, having her mamma's assurance that he
would not do for either of them, resigned herself complacently to what she
could not help.

[Illustration: MR. SPONGE DEMANDING AN EXPLANATION]

Mr. Sponge, on his part, saw that all things portended a close. He cared
nothing about the old willow-pattern set usurping the place of the
Jawleyford-armed china; but the contents of the dishes were bad, and the
wine, if possible, worse. Most palpable Marsala did duty for sherry, and
the corked port was again in requisition. Jawleyford was no longer the
brisk, cheery-hearted Jawleyford of Laverick Wells, but a crusty, fidgety,
fire-stirring sort of fellow, desperately given to his _Morning Post_.

Worst of all, when Mr. Sponge retired to his den to smoke a cigar and study
his dear cab fares, he was so suffocated with smoke that he was obliged to
put out the fire, notwithstanding the weather was cold, indeed inclining to
frost. He lit his cigar notwithstanding; and, as he indulged in it, he ran
all the circumstances of his situation through his mind. His pressing
invitation--his magnificent reception--the attention of the ladies--and now
the sudden change everything had taken. He couldn't make it out, somehow;
but the consequences were plain enough. 'The fellow's a humbug,' at length
said he, throwing the cigar-end away, and turning into bed, when the
information Watson the keeper gave him on arriving recurred to his mind,
and he was satisfied that Jawleyford was a humbug. It was clear Mr. Sponge
had made a mistake in coming; the best thing he could do now was to back
out, and see if the fair Amelia would take it to heart. In the midst of his
cogitations Mr. Puffington's pressing invitation occurred to his mind, and
it appeared to be the very thing for him, affording him an immediate asylum
within reach of the fair lady, should she be likely to die.

Next day he wrote to volunteer a visit.

Mr. Puffington, who was still in ignorance of our friend's real character,
and still believed him to be a second 'Nimrod' out on a 'tour,' was
overjoyed at his letter; and, strange to relate, the same p