coach, and whisked away before Mr. Sponge knew where he was.

When they arrived at Nonsuch House, they found Mr. Bugles exercising the
fiddlers by dancing the ladies in turns.

CHAPTER LII

A MOONLIGHT RIDE

The position, then, of Mr. Sponge was this. He was left on a frosty,
moonlight night at the door of a strange farmhouse, staring after a
receding coach, containing all his recent companions.

'You'll not be goin' wi' 'em, then?' observed Mr. Peastraw, who stood
beside him, listening to the shrill notes of the horn dying out in the
distance.

'No,' replied Mr. Sponge.

'Rummy lot,' observed Mr. Peastraw, with a shake of the head.

'Are they?' asked Mr. Sponge.

'Very!' replied Mr. Peastraw. 'Be the death of Sir Harry among 'em.'

'Who are they all?' asked Mr. Sponge.

'Rubbish!' replied Peastraw with a sneer, diving his hands into the depths
of his pockets. 'Well, we'd better go in,' added he, pulling his hands out
and rubbing them, to betoken that he felt cold.

Mr. Sponge, not being much of a drinker, was more overcome with what he had
taken than a seasoned cask would have been; added to which the keen night
air striking upon his heated frame soon sent the liquor into his head. He
began to feel queer.

'Well,' said he to his host, 'I think I'd better be going.'

'Where are you bound for?' asked Mr. Peastraw.

'To Puddingpote Bower,' replied Mr. Sponge.

'S-o-o,' observed Mr. Peastraw thoughtfully; 'Mr. Crowdey's--Mr. Jogglebury
that was?'

'Yes,' replied Mr. Sponge.

'He is a deuce of a man, that, for breaking people's hedges,' observed Mr.
Peastraw; after a pause, 'he can't see a straight stick of no sort, but
he's sure to be at it.'

'He's a great man for walking-sticks,' replied Mr. Sponge, staggering in
the direction of the stable in which he put his horse.

The house clock then struck ten.

'She's fast,' observed Mr. Peastraw, fearing his guest might be wanting to
stay all night.

'How far will Puddingpote Bower be from here?' asked Mr. Sponge.

'Oh, no distance, sir, no distance,' replied Mr. Peastraw, now leading out
the horse. 'Can't miss your way, sir--can't miss your way. First turn on
the right takes you to Collins' Green; then keep by the side of the church,
next the pond; then go straight forward for about a mile and a half, or two
miles, till you come to a small village called Lea Green; turn short at the
finger-post as you enter, and keep right along by the side o