the sound of his name in the yard caused him to look out, when—­oh, welcome sight!—­a Puddingpote Bower messenger put Sir Harry’s note in his hand, which had at length arrived at Jog’s through their very miscellaneous transit, called a post.  Sponge, in the joy of his heart, actually gave the lad a shilling!  He now felt like a new man.  He didn’t care a rap for Facey, and, ordering Leather to give him the hack and follow with the hunters, he presently cantered out of town as sprucely as if all was on the square.

When, however, Facey found how matters stood, he determined to stop Sponge’s things, which Leather resisted; and, Facey showing fight, Leather butted him with his head, sending him backwards downstairs and putting his shoulder out.  Leather than marched off with the kit, amid the honours of war.

CHAPTER LXI

NONSUCH HOUSE AGAIN

[Illustration:  ‘MR. SPONGE, MY LADY’]

The gallant inmates of Nonsuch House had resolved themselves into a committee of speculation, as to whether Mr. Sponge was coming or not; indeed, they had been betting upon it, the odds at first being a hundred to one that he came, though they had fallen a point or two on the arrival of the post without an answer.

‘Well, I say Mr. What-d’ye-call-him—­Sponge—­doesn’t come!’ exclaimed Captain Seedeybuck, as he lay full length, with his shaggy greasy head on the fine rose-coloured satin sofa, and his legs cocked over the cushion.

‘Why not?’ asked Miss Glitters, who was beguiling the twilight half-hour before candles with knitting.

‘Don’t know,’ replied Seedeybuck, twirling his moustache, ’don’t know—­have a presentiment he won’t.’

‘Sure to come!’ exclaimed Captain Bouncey, knocking the ashes off his cigar on to the fine Tournay carpet.

’I’ll lay ten to one—­ten fifties to one—­he does,—­a thousand to ten if you like.’  If all the purses in the house had been clubbed together, we don’t believe they would have raised fifty pounds.

‘What sort of a looking man is he?’ asked Miss Glitters, now counting her loops.

‘Oh—­whoy—­ha—­hem—­haw—­he’s just an ordinary sort of lookin’ man—­nothin’ ‘tickler any way,’ drawled Captain Seedeybuck, now wetting and twirling his moustache.

‘Two legs, a head, a back, and so on, I presume,’ observed the lady.

‘Just so,’ assented Captain Seedeybuck.

‘He’s a horsey-lookin’ sort o’ man, I should say,’ observed Captain Bouncey, ‘walks as if he ought to be ridin’—­wears vinegar tops.’

‘Hate vinegar tops,’ growled Seedeybuck.

Just then, in came Lady Scattercash, attended by Mr. Orlando Bugles, the ladies’ attractions having caused that distinguished performer to forfeit his engagement at the Surrey Theatre.  Captain Cutitfat, Bob Spangles, and Sir Harry quickly followed, and the Sponge question was presently renewed.