ng.

'Well, but I can see the footman or somebody, surely,' observed Mr. Sponge,
fearing that his chance was out for a billet, and recollecting old Jog's
'Bartholo-_m-e-ws_!' and 'Murry Anns!' and intimations for him to start.

''Deed you can't,' replied the dame--'ye can see nebody but me,' added she,
fixing her twinkling eyes intently upon him as she spoke.

'Well, that's a pretty go,' observed Mr. Sponge aloud to himself, ringing
his spurs against his stirrup-irons.

'Pretty go or ugly go,' snapped the woman, thinking it was a reflection on
herself, 'it's all you'll get'; and thereupon she gave the back of the
chair a hearty bastinadoing as if in exemplification of the way she would
like to serve Mr. Sponge out for the observation.

'I came here thinking to get some breakfast,' observed Mr. Sponge, casting
an eye upon the disordered table, and reconnoitring the bottles and the
remains of the dessert.

'Did you?' said the woman; 'I wish you may get it.'

'I wish I may,' replied he. 'If you would manage that for me, just some
coffee and a mutton chop or two, I'd remember you,' said he, still
tantalizing her with the sound of the silver in his pocket.

'Me manish it!' exclaimed the woman, her hopes again rising at the sound;
'me manish it! how d'ye think I'm to manish sich things?' asked she.

'Why, get at the cook, or the housekeeper, or somebody,' replied Mr.
Sponge.

'Cook or housekeeper!' exclaimed she. 'There'll be no cook or housekeeper
astir here these many hours yet; I question,' added she, 'they get up
to-day.'

'What! they've been put to bed too, have they?' asked he.

'W-h-y no--not zactly that,' drawled the woman; 'but when sarvants are kept
up three nights out of four, they must make up for lost time when they
can.'

'Well,' mused Mr. Sponge, 'this is a bother, at all events; get no
breakfast, lose my hunt, and perhaps a billet into the bargain. Well,
there's sixpence for you, my good woman,' said he at length, drawing his
hand out of his pocket and handing her the contents through the window;
adding, 'don't make a beast of yourself with it.'

'It's nabbut _fourpence_,' observed the woman, holding it out on the palm
of her hand.

'Ah, well, you're welcome to it whatever it is,' replied our friend,
turning his horse to go away. A thought then struck him. 'Could you get me
a pen and ink, think you?' asked he; 'I want to write a line to Sir Harry.'

'Pen and ink!' replied the woman, who had