'That's not a bad-like old cob of yours,' he observed, drawing rein so as to let the shaggy white come alongside of him.
'He belies his looks, then,' replied Watson, with a grin of his cadaverous face, 'for he's just as bad a beast as ever looked through a bridle. It's a parfect disgrace to a gentleman to put a man on such a beast.'
Sponge saw the sort of man he had got to deal with, and proceeded accordingly.
'Have you lived long with Mr. Jawleyford?' he asked.
'No, nor will I, if I can help it,' replied Watson, with another grin and another touch of the old hat. Touching his hat was about the only piece of propriety he was up to.
'What, he's not a brick, then?' asked Sponge.
'Mean man,' replied Watson with a shake of the head; 'mean man,' he repeated. 'You're nowise connected with the fam'ly, I s'pose?' he asked with a look of suspicion lest he might be committing himself.
'No,' replied Sponge; 'no; merely an acquaintance. We met at Laverick Wells, and he pressed me to come and see him.'
'Indeed!' said Watson, feeling at ease again.