s a young man of dissipated appearance, and
high words were taking place.

"I tell you again I want to see my sister," said the younger man. "You
can't change the relationship, you know. If you could, you'd have done
it long ago. But as I may have to wait some time I'll call in a friend
of mine, with your leave."

At this he brought in a companion of even more dissolute appearance than
himself.

"There, it's Dick Swiveller," said the young fellow, pushing him in.

"But is the old min agreeable?" said Mr. Swiveller in an undertone.
"What is the odds so long as the fire of soul is kindled at the taper of
conviviality, and the wing of friendship never moults a feather! But,
only one little whisper, Fred--_is_ the old min friendly?"

Mr. Swiveller then leaned back in his chair and relapsed into silence;
only to break it by observing, "Gentlemen, how does the case stand? Here
is a jolly old grandfather, and here is a wild young grandson. The jolly
old grandfather says to the wild young grandson, 'I have brought you up
and educated you, Fred; you have bolted a little out of the course, and
you shall never have another chance.' The wild young grandson makes
answer, 'You're as rich as can be, why can't you stand a trifle for your
grown up relation?' Then the plain question is, ain't it a pity this
state of things should continue, and how much better it would be for the
old gentleman to hand over a reasonable amount of tin, and make it all
right and comfortable?"

"Why do you persecute me?" said the old man, turning to his grandson.
"Why do you bring your profligate companions here? I am poor. You have
chosen your own path, follow it. Leave Nell and me to toil and work."

"Nell will be a woman soon," returned the other; "She'll forget her
brother unless he shows himself sometimes."

The door opened, and the child herself appeared, followed by an elderly
man so low in stature as to be quite a dwarf, though his head and face
were large enough for the body of a giant.

Mr. Swiveller turned to the dwarf and, stooping down, whispered audibly
in his ear. "The watchword to the old min is--fork."

"Is what?" demanded Quilp, for that--Daniel Quilp--was the dwarf's name.

"Is fork, sir, fork," replied Mr. Swiveller, slapping his pocket. "You
are awake, sir?"

The dwarf nodded; the grandson, having announced his intention of
repeating his visit, left the house accompanied by his friend.

"So much for dear relations," said Qu