'Oh, quite,' replied Jack; 'his great desire is to be thought a sportsman.'
'A sportsman or a sporting man?' asked Sponge.
'W-h-o-y! I should say p'raps a sportin' man more than the sportsman,' replied Jack. 'He's a great lumberin' lad, buttons his great stomach into a Newmarket cutaway, and carries a betting-book in his breast pocket.'
'Oh, he's a bettor, is he!' exclaimed Sponge, brightening up.
'He's a raw poult of a chap,' replied Jack; 'just ready for anything—in a small way, at least—a chap that's always offering two to one in half-crowns. He'll have money, though, and can't be far off age. His father was a great spectacle-maker. You have heard of Pacey's spectacles?'
'Can't say as how I have,' replied Sponge, adding, 'they are more in your line than mine.'
The further consideration of the youth was interrupted by the entrance of a footman with hot water, who announced that dinner would be ready in half an hour.
'Who's there coming?' asked Jack.
'Don't know 'xactly, sir,' replied the man; 'believe much the same party as yesterday, with the addition of Mr. Pacey; Mr. Miller, of Newton; Mr. Fogo, of Bellevue; Mr. Brown, of the Hill; and some others whose names I forget.'