Samuel Weller.
'No, no,' said Mr. Trotter, in conclusion, 'that's not to be told
to everybody. That is a secret--a great secret, Mr. Walker.'
As the mulberry man said this, he turned his glass upside
down, by way of reminding his companion that he had nothing
left wherewith to slake his thirst. Sam observed the hint; and
feeling the delicate manner in which it was conveyed, ordered the
pewter vessel to be refilled, whereat the small eyes of the mulberry
man glistened.
'And so it's a secret?' said Sam.
'I should rather suspect it was,' said the mulberry man,
sipping his liquor, with a complacent face.
'i suppose your mas'r's wery rich?' said Sam.
Mr. Trotter smiled, and holding his glass in his left hand, gave
four distinct slaps on the pockets of his mulberry indescribables
with his right, as if to intimate that his master might have done
the same without alarming anybody much by the chinking of coin.
'Ah,' said Sam, 'that's the game, is it?'
The mulberry man nodded significantly.
'Well, and don't you think, old feller,' remonstrated Mr.
Weller, 'that if you let your master take in this here young lady,
you're a precious rascal?'
'I know that,' said Job Trotter, turning upon his companion a
countenance of deep contrition, and groaning slightly, 'I know
that, and that's what it is that preys upon my mind.
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