him,
and tell the servants all he knew about him. Accordingly he let out, in
strict confidence of course, to Spigot, that so far from Mr. Sponge being a
gentleman of 'fortin,' as he called it, with a dozen or two hunters planted
here and there, he was nothing but the hirer of a couple of hacks, with
himself as a job-groom, by the week. Spigot, who was on the best of terms
with the 'cook-housekeeper,' and had his clothes washed on the sly in the
laundry, could not do less than communicate the intelligence to her, from
whom it went to the lady's-maid, and thence circulated in the upper
regions.

[Illustration]

Juliana, the maid, finding Miss Amelia less indisposed to hear Mr. Sponge
run down than she expected, proceeded to add her own observations to the
information derived from Leather, the groom. 'Indeed, she couldn't say that
she thought much of Mr. Sponge herself; his shirts were coarse, so were his
pocket-handkerchiefs; and she never yet saw a real gent without a valet.'

Amelia, without any positive intention of giving up Mr. Sponge, at least
not until she saw further, had nevertheless got an idea that she was
destined for a much higher sphere. Having duly considered all the
circumstances of Mr. Spraggon's visit to Jawleyford Court, conned over
several mysterious coughs and half-finished sentences he had indulged in,
she had about come to the conclusion that the real object of his mission
was to negotiate a matrimonial alliance on behalf of Lord Scamperdale. His
lordship's constantly expressed intention of getting married was well
calculated to mislead one whose experience of the world was not
sufficiently great to know that those men who are always talking about it
are the least likely to get married, just as men who are always talking
about buying horses are the men who never do buy them. Be that, however, as
it may, Amelia was tolerably easy about Mr. Sponge. If he had money she
could take him; if he hadn't, she could let him alone.

Jawleyford, too, who was more hospitable at a distance, and in imagination
than in reality, had had about enough of our friend. Indeed, a man whose
talk was of hunting, and his reading _Mogg_ was not likely to have much in
common with a gentleman of taste and elegance, as our friend set up to be.
The delicate inquiry that Mrs. Jawleyford now made, as to 'whether he knew
Mr. Sponge to be a man of fortune,' set him off at a tangent.

'ME know he's a man of fortune! _I_ know nothi