down at once for a deceitful, servile, miserable fawner. So he was silent. And though they were all sufficiently uncomfortable, it is fair to say that Martin was perhaps the most so; for he had felt kindly towards Tom at first, and had been interested by his seeming simplicity.
"You 're like the rest," he thought, glancing at the face of the unconscious Tom. "You had nearly imposed upon me, but you have lost your labour. You 're too zealous a toadeater, and betray yourself, Mr. Pinch."
During the whole remainder of the walk, not another word was spoken. First among the meetings to which Tom had long looked forward with a beating heart, it was memorable for nothing but embarrassment and confusion. They parted at the Dragon door; and sighing as he extinguished the candle in the lantern, Tom turned back again over the gloomy fields.
As he approached the first stile, which was in a lonely part, made very dark by a plantation of young firs, a man slipped past him and went on before. Coming to the stile he stopped, and took his seat upon it. Tom was rather startled, and for a moment stood still; but he stepped forward again immediately, and went close up to him.
It was Jonas; swinging his legs to and fro, sucking the head of a stick, and looking with a sneer at Tom.
"Good gracious me!" cried Tom, "who would have thought of its being you! You followed us, then?"
"What's that to you?" said Jonas. "Go to the devil!"
"You are not very civil, I think," remarked Tom.
"Civil enough for you," retorted Jonas. "Who are you?"
"One who has as good a right to common consideration as another," said Tom, mildly.
"You 're a liar," said Jonas. "You haven't a right to any consideration. You haven't a right to anything. You 're a pretty sort of fellow to talk about your rights, upon my soul! Ha, ha!—rights, too!"
"If you proceed in this way," returned Tom, reddening, "you will oblige me to talk about my wrongs. But I hope your joke is over."
"It's the way with you curs," said Mr. Jonas, "that when you know a man's in real earnest, you pretend to think he's joking, so that you may turn it off. But that won't do with me. It's too stale. Now just attend to me for a bit, Mr. Pitch, or Witch, or Stich, or whatever your name is."
"My name is Pinch," observed Tom. "Have the goodness to call me by it."
"What! You mustn't even be called out of your name, mustn't you!" cried Jonas. "Pauper 'prentices are looking up, I think. Ecod, we manage 'em a little better in the city!"
"Never mind what you do in the city," said Tom. "What have you got to say to me?"
"Just this, Mister Pinch," retorted Jonas, thrusting his face so close to Tom's that Tom was obliged to retreat a step, "I advise you to keep your own counsel, and to avoid tittle-tattle, and not to cut in where you 're not wanted. I 've heard something of you, my friend, and your
