groom--his--whatever he calls him, expects they'll be staying some time.'

'The deuce!' exclaimed Mr. Puffington, whose hospitality, like
Jawleyford's, was greater in imagination than in reality.

'Shall I take these things away?' asked Plummey, after a pause.

'Couldn't you manage to get him to go?' asked Mr. Puffington, still harping
on his remaining guest.

'Don't know, sir. I could try, sir--believe he's bad to move, sir,' replied
Plummey, with a grin.

'Is he really?' replied Mr. Puffington, alarmed lest Sponge should fasten
himself upon him for good.

'They say so,' replied Mr. Plummey, 'but I don't speak from any personal
knowledge, for I know nothing of the man.'

'Well,' said Mr. Puffington, amused at his servant's exclusiveness, 'I wish
you would try to get rid of him, bow him out civilly, you know--say I'm
unwell--very unwell--deuced unwell--_ordered_ to keep quiet--say it as if
from yourself, you know--it mustn't appear as if it came from me, you
know.'

'In course not,' replied Mr. Plummey, 'in course not,' adding, 'I'll do my
best, sir--I'll do my best.' So saying, he took up the breakfast things and
departed.

Mr. Sponge regaling himself with a cigar in the stables and shrubberies, it
was some time before Mr. Plummey had an opportunity of trying his diplomacy
upon him, it being contrary to Mr. Plummey's custom to go out of doors
after any one. At last he saw Sponge coming lounging along the
terrace-walk, looking like a man thoroughly disengaged, and, timing himself
properly, encountered him in the entrance.

'Beg pardon, sir,' said Mr. Plummey, 'but cook, sir, wishes to know, sir,
if you dine here to-day, sir?'

'Of course,' replied Mr. Sponge, 'where would you have me dine?'

'Oh, I don't know, sir--only Mr. Puffington, sir, is very poorly, sir, and
I thought p'raps you'd be dining out.

'Poorly is he?' replied Mr. Sponge; 'sorry to hear that--what's the matter
with him?'

'Bad bilious attack, I think,' replied Plummey--'very subject to them, at
this time of year particklarly; was laid up, at least confined to his room,
three weeks last year of a similar attack.'

'Indeed!' replied Mr. Sponge, not relishing the information.

'Then I must say you'll dine here?' said the butler.

'Yes; I must have my dinner, of course,' replied Mr. Sponge. 'I'm not ill,
you know. No occasion to make a great spread for me, you know; but still I
must have some victuals, you know.'

'Certainly, sir, cer