Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour

by Robert Smith Surtees

  CHAPTER LIV

  FAMILY JARS

  Gustavus James's internal qualms being at length appeased, Mr. JoggleburyCrowdey returned to bed, but not to sleep--sleep there was none for him. Hewas full of indignation and jealousy, and felt suspicious of the verybolster itself. He had been insulted--grossly insulted. Three suchnames--the 'Woolpack,' 'Old puff-and-blow,' and 'Bellows-to-mend'--nogentleman, surely, ever was called before by a guest, in his own house.Called, too, before his own servant. What veneration, what respect, could aservant feel for a master whom he heard called 'Old bellows-to-mend'? Itdamaged the respect inspired by the chairmanship of the Stir-it-stiffUnion, to say nothing of the trusteeship of the Sloppyhocks, Tolpuddle, andother turnpike-roads. It annihilated everything. So he fumed, and fretted,and snorted, and snored. Worst of all, he had no one to whom he couldunburden his grievance. He could not make the partner of his bosom apartner in his woes, because--and he bounced about so that he almost shotthe clothes off the bed, at the thoughts of the 'why.'

  Thus he lay tumbling and tossing, and fuming and wheezing and puffing, nowvowing vengeance against Leather, who he recollected had called him the'Woolpack,' and determining to have him turned off in the morning for hisimpudence--now devising schemes for getting rid of Mr. Sponge and himtogether. Oh, could he but see them off! could he but see the portmanteauand carpet-bag again standing in the passage, he would gladly lend hisphaeton to carry them anywhere. He would drive it himself for the pleasureof knowing and feeling he was clear of them. He wouldn't haggle about thepikes; nay, he would even give Sponge a gibbey, any he liked--the pick ofthe whole--Wellington, Napoleon Bonaparte, a crowned head even, though itwould damage the set. So he lay, rolling and restless, hearing every clockstrike; now trying to divert his thoughts, by making a rough calculationwhat all his gibbeys put together were worth; now considering whether hehad forgotten to go for any he had marked in the course of hisperegrinations; now wishing he had laid one about old Leather, when he fellon his knees after calling him the 'Woolpack'; then wondering whetherLeather would have had him before the County Court for damages, or takenhim before Justice Slowcoach for the assault. As morning advanced, histhoughts again turned upon the best mode of getting rid of his mostunwelcome guests, and he arose and dressed, with the full determination oftrying what he could do.

  Having tried the effects of an upstairs shout the morning before, hedecided to see what a down one would do; accordingly, he mounted the stairsand climbed the sort of companion-ladder that led to the servants' attics,where he kept a stock of gibbeys in the rafters. Having reached this, hecleared his throat, laid his head over the banisters, and putting an openhand on each side of his mouth to direct the sound, exclaimed with a loudand audible voice:

  'BARTHOLO--_m--e--w_!'

  'BAR--THO--LO--_m--e--e--w_!' repeated he, after a pause, with afull separation of the syllables and a prolonged intonation of the_m--e--w_.

  No Bartholomew answered.

  'MURRAY ANN!' then hallooed Jog, in a sharper, quicker key.'MURRAY ANN!' repeated he, still louder, after a pause.

  'Yes, sir! here, sir!' exclaimed that invaluable servant, tidying herpink-ribboned cap as she hurried into the passage below. Looking up, shecaught sight of her master's great sallow chaps hanging like a flitch ofbacon over the garret banister.

  'Oh, Murry Ann,' bellowed Mr. Jog, at the top of his voice, still holdinghis hands to his mouth, as soon as he saw her, 'Oh, Murry Ann, you'd betterget the (puff) breakfast ready; I think the (gasp) Mr. Sponge will be(wheezing) away to-day.'

  'Yes, sir,' replied Mary Ann.

  'And tell Bartholomew to get his washin' bills in.'

  'He harn't had no washin' done,' replied Mary Ann, raising her voice tocorrespond with that of her master.

  'Then his bill for postage,' replied Mr. Jog, in the same tone.

  'He harn't had no letters neither,' replied Mary Ann.

  'Oh, then, just get the breakfast ready,' rejoined Jog, adding, 'he'll be(wheezing) away as soon as he gets it, I (puff) expect.'

  'Will he?' said Mr. Sponge to himself, as, with throbbing head, he laytumbling about in bed, alleviating the recollections of the previous day'sdebauch with an occasional dive into his old friend _Mogg_. Corporeally, hewas in bed at Puddingpote Bower, but mentally, he was at the door of theGoose and Gridiron, in St. Paul's Churchyard, waiting for the three o'clockbus, coming from the Bank to take him to Isleworth Gate.

  Jog's bellow to 'Bartholo--_m--e--w_' interrupted the journey, just as inimagination Mr. Sponge was putting his foot on the wheel and hallooing tothe driver to hand him the strap to help him on to the box.

  'Will he?' said Mr. Sponge to himself, as he heard Jog's reiteratedassertion that he would be wheezing away that day. 'Wish you may get it,old boy,' added he, tucking the now backless _Mogg_ under his pillow, andturning over for a snooze.

  When he got down, he found the party ranged at breakfast, minus theinteresting prodigy, Gustavus James, whom Sponge proceeded to inquire afteras soon as he had made his obeisance to his host and hostess, anddistributed a round of daubed comfits to the rest of the juvenile party.

  'But where's my little friend, Augustus James?' asked he, on arriving atthe wonder's high chair by the side of mamma. 'Where's my little friend,Augustus James?' asked he, with an air of concern.

  'Oh, _Gustavus_ James,' replied Mrs. Jog, with an emphasis on Gustavus;'_Gustavus_ James is not very well this morning; had a little indigestionduring the night.'

  'Poor little hound,' observed Mr. Sponge, filling his mouth with hotkidney, glad to be rid for a time of the prodigy. 'I thought I heard a rowwhen I came home, which was rather late for an early man like me, but thefact was, nothing would serve Sir Harry but I should go with him to getsome refreshment at a tenant's of his; and we got on talking, first aboutone thing, and then about another, and the time slipped away so quickly,that day was gone before I knew where I was; and though Sir Harry was mostanxious--indeed, would hardly take a refusal--for me to go home with him, Ifelt that, being a guest here, I couldn't do it--at least, not then; so Igot my horse, and tried to find my way with such directions as the farmergave me, and soon lost my way, for the moon was uncertain, and the countryall strange both to me and my horse.'

  'What farmer was it?' asked Jog, with the butter streaming down the guttersof his chin from a mouthful of thick toast. 'Farmer--farmer--farmer--letme see, what farmer it was,' replied Mr. Sponge thoughtfully, againattacking the kidneys. 'Oh, farmer Beanstraw, I should say.'

  '_Pea_straw, p'raps?' suggested Jog, colouring up, and staring intently atMr. Sponge.

  'Pea--Peastraw was the name,' replied Mr. Sponge.

  'I know him,' said Jog; 'Peastraw of Stoke.'

  'Ah, he said he knew you.' replied Mr. Sponge.

  'Did he?' asked Jog eagerly. 'What did he say?'

  'Say--let me see what he said,' replied he, pretending to recollect.' Hesaid "you are a deuced good feller," and I'd to make his compliments toyou, and to say that there were some nice young ash saplings on his farmthat you were welcome to cut.'

  'Did he?' exclaimed Jog; 'I'm sure that's very (puff) polite of him. I'll(wheeze) over there the first opportunity.'

  'And what did you make of Sir Harry?' asked Mrs. Jog.

  'Did you (puff) say you were going to (wheeze) over to him?' asked Jogeagerly.

  'I told him I'd go to him before I left the country,' replied Mr. Spongecarelessly; adding, 'Sir Harry is rather too fast a man for me.'

  'Too fast for himself, I should think,' observed Mrs. Jog.

  'Fine (puff--wheeze) young man,' growled Jog into the bottom of his cup.

  'Have you known him long?' asked Mrs. Jogglebury.

  'Oh, we fox-hunters all know each other,' replied Mr. Sponge evasively.

  'Well, now that's what I tell Mr. Jogglebury,' exclaimed she. 'Mr. Jog's soshy, that there's no getting him to do what he ought,' added the lady. 'Noone, to hear him, would think he's the great man he is.'

  'Ought (puff)--oug
ht (wheeze),' retorted Jog, puffing furiously into hiscapacious shirt-frill. 'It's one (puff) thing to know (puff) people outwith the (wheeze) hounds, and another to go calling upon them at their(gasp) houses.' 'Well, but, my dear, that's the way people makeacquaintance,' replied his wife. 'Isn't it, Mr. Sponge?' continued she,appealing to our friend.

  'Oh, certainly,' replied Mr. Sponge, 'certainly; all men are equal outhunting.'

  'So I say,' exclaimed Mrs. Jogglebury; 'and yet I can't get Jog to call onSir George Stiff, though he meets him frequently out hunting.'

  'Well, but then I can't (puff) upon him out hunting (wheeze), and thenwe're not all equal (gasp) when we go home.'

  So saying, our friend rose from his chair, and after giving each leg itsusual shake, and banging his pockets behind to feel that he had his keyssafe, he strutted consequentially up to the window to see how the daylooked.

  Mr. Sponge, not being desirous of continuing the 'calling' controversy,especially as it might lead to inquiries relative to his acquaintance withSir Harry, finished the contents of his plate quickly, drank up his tea,and was presently alongside of his host, asking him whether he 'was goodfor a ride, a walk, or what?'

  'A (puff) ride, a (wheeze) walk, or a (gasp) what?' repeated Jogthoughtfully. 'No, I (puff) think I'll stay at (puff) home,' thinking thatwould be the safest plan.

  ''Ord, hang it, you'll never lie at earth such a day as this!' exclaimedSponge, looking out on the bright, sunny landscape.

  'Got a great deal to do,' retorted Jog, who, like all thoroughly idle men,was always dreadfully busy. He then dived into a bundle of rough sticks,and proceeded to select one to fashion into the head of Mr. Hume. Sponge,being unable to make anything of him, was obliged to exhaust the day in thestable, and in sauntering about the country. It was clear Jog wasdetermined to be rid of him, and he was sadly puzzled what to do. Dinnerfound his host in no better humour, and after a sort of Quakers' meeting ofan evening, they parted heartily sick of each other.