162 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF
looks as conwivial as a live trout in a lime-basket," added Mr. Weller, in an under tone. . " I was out last night, with my master," replied the strang-er.
" What's his name?" inquired Mr. Weller, colourings up very red with sudden excitement, and the friction of the towel combined.
" Fitz-Marshall," said the mulberry-man.
" Give us your hand," said Mr. W^eller, advancing-; «* I should like to know you. I like your appearance, old fellow."
" Well, that is very strange,'* said the mulberry man, with great simplicity of manner. " I like your's so much, that I wanted to speak to you, from the very first moment I saw you under the pump.'*
" Did you though ? "
" Upon my word. Now, isn't that curious ? "
" Wery sing'ler," said Sam, inwardly cong-ratulating- himself upon the softness of the stranger. " What's your name, my patriarch ?"
« Job."
'• And a wery good name it is ; only one, I know, that ain't got a nickname to it. What's the other name ? "
" Trotter," said the stranger. " What is yours ? "
Sam bore in mind his master's caution, and replied,
My name's Walker ; my master's name's Wilkins. Will you take a drop o' somethin' this mornin', Mr. Trotter ? "
Mr. Trotter acquiesced in this agreeable proposal : and having deposited his book in his coat-pocket, accompanied Mr. Weller to the tap, where they were soon occupied in discussing an exhilarating com- pound, formed by mixing together, in a pewter vessel, certain quantities of British Hollands, and the fragrant essence of the clove.
" And what sort of a place have you got?" inquired Sam, as he filled his companion's glass, for the second time.
" Bad," said Job, smacking his lips, " Very bad."
" You don't mean that," said Sam.
- I do, indeed. Worse than that, my master's going to be married.",
" 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, a'nt it ? "
Now, although this question was put in the most careless tone im- aginable, 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, hy 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." p
As the mulberry man said this, he turned his glass upside down, by
