'Mr. Spraggon!' exclaimed both the young ladies. 'Mr. Spraggon!—what should set him here?'
'What, indeed?' asked Jawleyford.
'Poor man! I dare say there's no harm in him,' observed Mrs. Jawleyford, who was always ready for anybody.
'No good either,' replied Jawleyford—'at all events, we'll be just as well without him. You know him, don't you?' added he, turning to Sponge—'great coarse man in spectacles.'
'Oh yes, I know him,' replied Sponge; 'a great ruffian he is, too,' added he.
'One ought to be in robust health to encounter such a man,' observed Jawleyford, 'and have time to get a man or two of the same sort to meet him. We can do nothing with such a man. I can't understand how his lordship puts up with such a fellow.'
'Finds him useful, I suppose,' observed Mr. Sponge.
Spigot presently appeared with a massive silver salver, bearing tumblers, sugar, lemon, nutmeg, and other implements of negus.
'Will you join me in a little wine-and-water?' asked Jawleyford, pointing to the apparatus and bottle ends, 'or will you have a fresh bottle?—plenty in the cellar,' added he, with a flourish of his hand, though he kept looking steadfastly at the negus-tray.
'Oh—why—I'm afraid—I doubt—I think I should hardly be able to do justice to a bottle single-handed,' replied Sponge. 'Then have negus,' said Jawleyford; 'you'll find it very refreshing; medical men recommend it after violent exercise in preference to wine. But pray have wine if you prefer it.'