inguished honor'--he is very good--of meeting me at the house of our
mutual friend Deedles, the banker, and he does me the favor to inquire
whether it will be agreeable to me to have Will Fern put down. He came
up to London, it seems, to look for employment (trying to better
himself--that's his story), and being found at night asleep in a shed,
was taken into custody, and carried next morning before the Alderman.
The Alderman observes (very properly) that he is determined to put this
sort of thing down, and that if it will be agreeable to me to have Will
Fern put down, he will be happy to begin with him."

"Let him be made an example of, by all means," returned the lady. "Last
winter, when I introduced pinking and eyelet-holing among the men and
boys in the village as a nice evening employment, and had the lines,

Oh let us love our occupations,
Bless the squire and his relations,
Live upon our daily rations,
And always know our proper stations,

set to music on the new system, for them to sing the while; this very
Fern--I see him now--touched that hat of his, and said, 'I humbly ask
your pardon, my lady, but _an't_ I something different from a great
girl?' I expected it, of course; who can expect anything but insolence
and ingratitude from that class of people? That is not to the purpose,
however. Sir Joseph! Make an example of him!"

Trotty, who had long ago relapsed, and was very low-spirited, stepped
forward with a rueful face to take the letter Sir Joseph held out to
him.

"You have heard, perhaps," said Sir Joseph, oracularly, "certain remarks
into which I have been led respecting the solemn period of time at which
we have arrived, and the duty imposed upon us of settling our affairs,
and being prepared. Now, my friend, can you lay your hand upon your
heart, and say that you also have made preparation for a New Year?"

"I am afraid, sir," stammered Trotty, looking meekly at him, "that I am
a--a--little behind-hand with the world."

"Behind-hand with the world!" repeated Sir Joseph Bowley, in a tone of
terrible distinctness.

"I am afraid, sir," faltered Trotty, "that there's a matter of ten or
twelve shillings owing to Mrs. Chickenstalker."

"To Mrs. Chickenstalker!" repeated Sir Joseph, in the same tone as
before.

"A shop, sir," exclaimed Toby, "in the general line. Also a--a little
money on account of rent. A very little, sir. It oughtn't to be owing, I
know, but we have bee