nightcap against the bedpost,
'too late for anything of that sort, sir--_down_right impeachment of one's
integrity, sir--must be settled another way, sir.'

'But, I assure you, you mistake!' exclaimed Pacey.

'Rot your mistakes!' interrupted Jack; 'there's no mistake in the matter.
You've _reg_larly impeached my integrity--blood of the Spraggons won't
stand that. "Death before Dishonour!"' shouted he, at the top of his voice,
flourishing his nightcap over his head, and then dashing it on to the
middle of the floor.

'What's the matter?--what's the matter?--what's the matter?' exclaimed Mr.
Sponge, rushing through the connecting door. 'What's the matter?' repeated
he, placing himself between the bed in which Jack still sat upright,
squinting his eyes inside out, and where Mr. Pacey stood.

'Oh, Mr. Sponge!' exclaimed Jack, clasping his raised hands in
thankfulness, 'I'm so glad you're here!--I'm so thankful you're come! I've
been insulted!--oh, goodness, how I've been insulted!' added he, throwing
himself back in the bed, as if thoroughly overcome with his feelings.

'Well, but what's the matter?--what is it all about?' asked Sponge coolly,
having a pretty good guess what it was.

'Never was so insulted in my life!' ejaculated Jack, from under the
bedclothes.

'Well but what _is_ it?' repeated Sponge, appealing to Pacey, who stood as
pale as ashes.

'Oh! nothing,' replied he; 'quite a mistake; Mr. Spraggon misunderstood me
altogether.'

'Mistake! There's no mistake in the matter!' exclaimed Jack, appearing
again on the surface like an otter; 'you gave me the lie as plain as a
pikestaff.'

'Indeed!' observed Mr. Sponge, drawing in his breath and raising his
eyebrows right up into the roof of his head. 'Indeed!' repeated he.

'No; nothing of the sort, I assure you,' asserted Mr. Pacey.

'Must have satisfaction!' exclaimed Jack, again diving under the
bedclothes.

'Well, but let us hear how matters stand,' said Mr. Sponge coolly, as
Jack's grizzly head disappeared.

'You'll be my second,' growled Jack, from under the bedclothes.

'Oh! second be hanged,' retorted Sponge. 'You've nothing to fight about;
Mr. Pacey says he didn't mean anything, that you misunderstood him, and
what more can a man want?'

'Just so,' replied Mr. Pacey, 'just so. I assure you I never intended the
slightest imputation on Mr. Spraggon.'

'I'm sure not,' replied Mr. Sponge.

'H-u-m-p-h,' grunted Jack from under the bedclothes, l