All things considered, Jack came to the conclusion that he should not be doing himself justice if he did not take advantage of such fair opportunities as chance placed in his way, and therefore he thought he might as well be picking up a penny during his lordship's life, as be waiting for a contingency that might never occur. Mr. Jawleyford's indisposition preventing Jack making the announcement he was sent to do, made it incumbent on him, as he argued, to see what could be done with the alternative his lordship had proposed--namely, buying Sponge's horses. At least, Jack salved his conscience over with the old plea of duty; and had come to that conclusion as he again helped himself to the last glass in the bottle. 'Would you like a little claret?' asked Sponge, with all the hospitality of a host. 'No, hang your claret!' replied Jack. 'A little brandy, perhaps?' suggested Sponge. 'I shouldn't mind a glass of brandy,' replied Jack, 'by way of a nightcap.' Spigot, at this moment entering to announce tea and coffee, was interrupted in his oration by Sponge demanding some brandy. 'Sorry,' replied Spigot, pretending to be quite taken by surprise, 'very sorry, sir--but, sir--master, sir--bed, sir--disturb him, sir.' 'Oh, dash it, never mind that!' exclaimed Jack; 'tell him Mr. Sprag--Sprag--Spraggon' (the bottle of port beginning to make Jack rather inarticulate)--'tell him Mr. Spraggon wants a little.' 'Dursn't disturb him, sir,' responded Spigot, with a shake of his head; 'much as my place, sir, is worth, sir.' 'Haven't you a little drop in your pantry, think you?' asked Sponge. 'The _cook_ perhaps has,' replied Mr. Spigot, as if it was quite out of his line. 'Well, go and ask her,' said Sponge; 'and bring some hot water and things, the same as we had last night, you know.' Mr. Spigot retired, and presently returned, bearing a tray with three-quarters of a bottle of brandy, which he impressed upon their minds was the 'cook's _own_.' 'I dare say,' hiccuped Jack, holding the bottle up to the light. 'Hope she wasn't using it herself,' observed Sponge. 'Tell her we'll (hiccup) her health,' hiccuped Jack, pouring a liberal potation into his tumbler. 'That'll be all you'll _do_, I dare say,' muttered Spigot to himself, as he sauntered back to his pantry. 'Does Jaw stand smoking?' asked Jack, as Spigot disappeared. 'Oh, I should think so,' replied Sponge; 'a friend like you, I'm sure, would be welcome'--Sponge thinking to indulge in a cigar, and lay the blame on Jack. 'Well, if you think so,' said Jack, pulling out his cigar-case, or rather his lordship's, and staggering to the chimney-piece for a match, though there was a candle at his elbow, 'I'll have a pipe.' 'So'll I,' said Sponge, 'if you'll give me a cigar.' 'Much yours as mine,' replied Jack, handing him his lordship's richly embroidered case with coronets and ciphers on either side, the gift of one of the many would-be Lady Scamperdales.