But unfortunately, Mr. Sponge was busy with his breakfast, and the prodigy wasted his sweetness on the desert air.
Mrs. Jogglebury, who had sat listening in ecstasies, saw the offended eye and pouting lip of the boy, and attempted to make up with exclamations of 'That is a clever fellow! That is a wonder!' at the same time showing him the sugar.
'A little more (puff) tea, my (wheeze) dear,' said Jogglebury, thrusting his great cup up the table.
'Hush! Jog, hush!' exclaimed Mrs. Crowdey, holding up her forefinger, and looking significantly first at him, and then at the urchin.
'Now, "Obin and Ichard," my darling,' continued she, addressing herself coaxingly to Gustavus James.
'No, not "Obin and Ichard,"' replied the child peevishly.
'Yes, my darling, do, that's a treasure.'
'Well, my (puff) darling, give me some (wheeze) tea,' interposed Jogglebury, knocking with his knuckles on the table.
'Oh dear. Jog, you and your tea!—you're always wanting tea,' replied Mrs. Jogglebury snappishly.
'Well, but, my (puff) dear, you forget that Mr. (wheeze) Sponge and I have to be at (puff) Snobston Green at a (wheeze) quarter to eleven, and it's good twelve (gasp) miles off.'