Mrs. Jogglebury having an object in view, and knowing that, though Jogglebury might lead, he would not drive, availed herself of the lull to trim her sail, to try and catch him on the other tack.
'Well, Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey,' said she, in a passive tone of regret, 'I certainly thought however indifferent you might be to me' (and here she applied her handkerchief—rather a coarse one—to her eyes) 'that still you had some regard for the interests of your (sob) children'; and here the waterfalls of her beady black eyes went off in a gush.
'Well, my dear,' replied Jogglebury, softened, 'I'm (puff) sure I'm (wheeze) anxious for my (puff) children. You don't s'pose if I wasn't (puff), I'd (wheeze) labour as I (puff—wheeze) do to leave them fortins?'—alluding to his exertions in the gibbey-stick line.
'Oh, Jog, I dare say you're very good and very industrious,' sobbed Mrs. Jogglebury, 'but I sometimes (sob) think that you might apply your (sob) energies to a better (sob) purpose.'
'Indeed, my dear (puff), I don't see that (wheeze),' replied Jogglebury, mildly.
'Why, now, if you were to try and get this rich Mr. Sponge for a god-papa for Gustavus James,' continued she, drying her eyes as she came to the point, 'that, I should say, would be worthy of you.'
'But, my (puff) dear,' replied Jogglebury, 'I don't know Mr. (wheeze) Sponge, to begin with.'
'That's nothing,' replied Mrs. Jogglebury; 'he's a stranger, and you should call upon him.'
Mr. Jogglebury sat silent, still staring at Lord Brougham, thinking how he pitched into him, and how sick he was when the jury, without retiring from the box, gave five hundred pounds damages against him.
'He's a fox-hunter, too,' continued his wife; 'and you ought to be civil to him.'