coat-pocket flaps; silver garters at their crimson plush breeches'
knees: and thus attired, they were ready to turn out with the butler to
receive visitors, and conduct them back to their carriages. Gradually they
came down in style, but not in number, and, when Mr. Sponge visited Mr.
Jawleyford, he had a sort of out-of-door man-of-all-work who metamorphosed
himself into a second footman at short notice.

'My dear Mr. Sponge!--I am delighted to see you!' exclaimed Mr. Jawleyford,
rising from his easy-chair, and throwing his Disraeli's _Bentinck_ aside,
as Mr. Spigot, the butler, in a deep, sonorous voice, announced our worthy
friend. 'This is, indeed, most truly kind of you,' continued Jawleyford,
advancing to meet him; and getting our friend by both hands, he began
working his arms up and down like the under man in a saw-pit. 'This is,
indeed, most truly kind,' he repeated; 'I assure you I shall never forget
it. It's just what I like--it's just what Mrs. Jawleyford likes--it's just
what we _all_ like--coming without fuss or ceremony. Spigot!' he added,
hailing old Pomposo as the latter was slowly withdrawing, thinking what a
humbug his master was--'Spigot!' he repeated in a louder voice; 'let the
ladies know Mr. Sponge is here. Come to the fire, my dear fellow,'
continued Jawleyford, clutching his guest by the arm, and drawing him
towards where an ample grate of indifferent coals was crackling and
spluttering beneath a magnificent old oak mantelpiece of the richest and
costliest carved work. 'Come to the fire, my dear fellow,' he repeated,
'for you feel cold; and I don't wonder at it, for the day is cheerless and
uncomfortable, and you've had a long ride. Will you take anything before
dinner?'

'What time do you dine?' asked Mr. Sponge, rubbing his hands as he spoke.

'Six o'clock,' replied Mr. Jawleyford, 'six o'clock--say six o'clock--not
particular to a moment--days are short, you see--days are short.'

'I think I should like a glass of sherry and a biscuit, then,' observed Mr.
Sponge.

And forthwith the bell was rung, and in due course of time Mr. Spigot
arrived with a tray, followed by the Miss Jawleyfords, who had rather
expected Mr. Sponge to be shown into the drawing-room to them, where they
had composed themselves very prettily; one working a parrot in chenille,
the other with a lapful of crochet.

The Miss Jawleyfords--Amelia and Emily--were lively girls; hardly
beauties--at least, not sufficiently so to