ed.'

'No.'

'Yes; and worse than that, too, he's going to run away with an immense
rich heiress, from boarding-school.'

'What a dragon!' said Sam, refilling his companion's glass. 'It's some
boarding-school in this town, I suppose, ain't it?' Now, although this
question was put in the most careless tone imaginable, Mr. Job Trotter
plainly showed by gestures that he perceived his new friend's anxiety to
draw forth an answer to it. He emptied his glass, looked mysteriously at
his companion, winked both of his small eyes, one after the other, and
finally made a motion with his arm, as if he were working an imaginary
pump-handle; thereby intimating that he (Mr. Trotter) considered himself
as undergoing the process of being pumped by Mr. 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. But what am I to do?'

'Do!' said Sam; 'di-wulge to the missis, and give up your master.'

'Who'd believe me?' replied Job Trotter. 'The young lady's considered
the very picture of innocence and discretion. She'd deny it, and so
would my master. Who'd believe me? I should lose my place, and get
indicted for a conspiracy, or some such thing; that's all I should tak