'It's a cold day, Mr.Spraggon; won't you come near the fire ?' continued Mrs.Jawleyford, addressing our friend, who had come to a full stop just under the chandelier in the centre of the room.

'Hem--cough--hem--thank ye, mum,' muttered Jack.

'I'm not--hem--cough--cold, thank ye, mum.' His face and hands were purple notwithstanding.
'How is my Lord Scamperdale ?' asked Amelia, who had a strong inclination to keep in with all parties.
'Hem--cough--hem--my lord--that's to say, my lady--hem--cough--I mean to say, my lord's pretty well, thank ye,' stuttered Jack.
'Is he coming ?' asked Amelia.
'Hem--cough--hem--my lord's--hem--not well--cough--no--hem--I mean to say--hem--cough--my lord's gone--hem--to dine--cough--hem--with his--cough--friend Lord Bubbley Jock--hem--cough--I mean Barker--cough.' Jack and Lord Scamperdale were so in the habit of calling his lordship by this nickname, that Jack let it slip, or rather cough out, inadvertently.
In due time Spigot returned, with 'Master's compliments, and he was very sorry, but he was so unwell that he was quite unable to see any one.' 'Oh, dear!' exclaimed Mrs.Jawleyford.
'Poor pa!' lisped Amelia.
'What a pity!' observed Mr.Sponge.
'I must go and see him,' observed Mrs.Jawleyford, hurrying off.
'Hem--cough--hem--hope he's not much--hem--damaged ?' observed Jack.
The old lady being thus got rid of, and Jawleyford disposed of--apparently for the night--Mr.Spraggon felt more comfortable, and presently yielded to Amelia's entreaties to come near the fire and thaw himself.

Spigot brought candles, and Mr.Sponge sat moodily in his chair, alternately studying _Mogg's Cab Fares_--'Old Bailey, Newgate Street, to or from the Adelphi, the Terrace, 1_s._ 6_d._; Admiralty, 2_s._'; and so on; and hazarding promiscuous sidelong sort of observations, that might be taken up by Jack or not, as he liked.

He seemed determined to pay Mr.Jack off for his out-of-door impudence.