Mrs.Jogglebury then proceeded with: 'Ou go before--' CHILD.--'With bottle and bag,' MAMMA.--'And I'll follow after--' CHILD.--'With 'ittle Jack Nag.' 'Well now, that _is_ wonderful!' exclaimed Mr.Sponge, hurrying on his dog-skin gloves, and wishing both Obin and Ichard farther.
'Isn't it!' exclaimed Mrs.Jogglebury, in ecstasies; then addressing the child, she said, 'Now that _is_ a good boy--that _is_ a fine fellow.

Now couldn't he say it all over by himself, doesn't he think ?' Mrs.Jogglebury looking at Sponge, as if she was meditating the richest possible treat for him.
'Oh,' replied Mr.Sponge, quite tired of the detention, 'he'll tell me it when I return--he'll tell me it when I return,' at the same time giving the child another parting chuck under the chin.

But the child was not to be put off in that way, and instead of crouching, and nestling, and hiding its face, it looked up quite boldly, and after a little hesitation went through 'Obin and Ichard,' to the delight of Mrs.Jogglebury, the mortification of Sponge, and the growling denunciations of old Jog, who still kept his place in the vehicle.

Mr.Sponge could not but stay the poem out.
At last they got started, Jog driving.

Sponge occupying the low seat, Jog's flail and Sponge's cane whip-stick stuck in the straps of the apron.