billet elsewhere.'

Having arranged the parting with Leather, and got a cart to carry his
things, Mr. Sponge mounted the piebald, and put himself under the guidance
of Watson to be conducted to his destination. The first part of the journey
was performed in silence, Mr. Sponge not being particularly well pleased at
the reception his request to have his horses taken in had met with. This
silence he might perhaps have preserved throughout had it not occurred to
him that he might pump something out of the servant about the family he was
going to visit.

'That's not a bad-like old cob of yours,' he observed, drawing rein so as
to let the shaggy white come alongside of him.

'He belies his looks, then,' replied Watson, with a grin of his cadaverous
face, 'for he's just as bad a beast as ever looked through a bridle. It's a
parfect disgrace to a gentleman to put a man on such a beast.'

Sponge saw the sort of man he had got to deal with, and proceeded
accordingly.

'Have you lived long with Mr. Jawleyford?' he asked.

'No, nor will I, if I can help it,' replied Watson, with another grin and
another touch of the old hat. Touching his hat was about the only piece of
propriety he was up to.

'What, he's not a brick, then?' asked Sponge.

'Mean man,' replied Watson with a shake of the head; 'mean man,' he
repeated. 'You're nowise connected with the fam'ly, I s'pose?' he asked
with a look of suspicion lest he might be committing himself.

'No,' replied Sponge; 'no; merely an acquaintance. We met at Laverick
Wells, and he pressed me to come and see him.'

'Indeed!' said Watson, feeling at ease again.

'Who did you live with before you came here?' asked Mr. Sponge, after a
pause.

'I lived many years--the greater part of my life, indeed--with Sir Harry
Swift. _He_ was a _real_ gentleman now, if you like--free, open-handed
gentleman--none of your close-shavin', cheese-parin' sort of gentlemen, or
imitation gentlemen, as I calls them, but a man who knew what was due to
good servants and gave them it. We had good wages, and all the proper
"reglars." Bless you, I could sell a new suit of clothes there every year,
instead of having to wear the last keeper's cast-offs, and a hat that would
disgrace anything but a flay-crow. If the linin' wasn't stuffed full of
gun-waddin' it would be over my nose,' he observed, taking it off and
adjusting the layer of wadding as he spoke.

'You should have stuck to Sir Harry,' observed Mr.