e attention
of the company on himself.

'I don't understand you,' replied Sponge, pretending astonishment.

'Lor bless us! why, where have you lived all your life?' asked Pacey.

'Oh, partly in one place, and partly in another,' was the answer.

'I should think so,' replied Pacey, with a look of compassion, adding, in
an undertone, 'a good deal with your mother, I should think.'

'If you could get that horse at a moderate figure,' whispered Jack to his
neighbour, and squinting his eyes inside out as he spoke, 'he's well worth
having.'

'The beggar won't sell him,' muttered Pacey, who was fonder of talking
about buying horses than of buying them.

'Oh yes, he will,' replied Jack; 'he didn't understand what you meant. Mr.
Sponge,' said he, addressing himself slowly and distinctly up the table to
our hero--'Mr. Sponge, my friend Mr. Pacey here challenges your chestnut.'

Sponge still stared in well-feigned astonishment.

'It's a custom we have in this country,' continued Jack, looking, as he
thought, at Sponge, but, in reality, squinting most frightfully at the
sideboard.

'Do you mean he wants to buy him?' asked Sponge.

'Yes,' replied Jack confidently.

'No, I don't,' whispered Pacey, giving Jack a kick under the table. Pacey
had not yet drunk sufficient wine to be rash.

'Yes, yes,' replied Jack tartly, 'you do,' adding, in an undertone, 'leave
it to me, man, and I'll let you in for a good thing. Yes, Mr. Sponge,'
continued he, addressing himself to our hero, 'Mr. Pacey fancies the
chestnut and challenges him.'

'Why doesn't he ask the price?' replied Sponge, who was always ready for a
deal.

'Ah, the price must be left to a third party,' said Jack.' The principle of
the thing is this,' continued he, enlisting the aid of his fingers to
illustrate his position: 'Mr. Pacey, here,' said he, applying the
forefinger of his right hand to the thumb of the left, looking earnestly at
Sponge, but in reality squinting up at the chandelier--'Mr. Pacey here
challenges your horse Multum-in-somethin'--I forget what you said you call
him--but the nag I rode to-day. Well, then,' continued Jack, 'you'
(demonstrating Sponge by pressing his two forefingers together, and holding
them erect) 'accept the challenge, but can challenge anything Mr. Pacey
has--a horse, dog, gun--anything; and, having fixed on somethin' then a
third party' (who Jack represented by cocking up his thumb), 'any one you
like to name, makes the award.