"'tis plain to see that; and 'tisn't much good, I'm thinking, you ever do."
"I mind my own business, Master Bunce," muttered the other, "and do you do the same. It a'n't nothing to you what I does—and your spying and poking here won't do no good nor yet no harm."
"I suppose then, Joe," continued Bunce, not noticing his opponent, "if the truth must out, you've stuck your name to that petition of theirs at last."
Skulpit looked as though he were about to sink into nothing with shame.
"What is it to you what he signs?" said Handy. "I suppose if we all wants to ax for our own, we needn't ax leave of you first, Mr. Bunce, big a man as you are: and as to your sneaking in here, into Job's room when he's busy, and where you're not wanted"
"I've knowed Job Skulpit, man and boy, sixty years," said Bunce, looking at the man of whom he spoke, "and that's ever since the day he was born. I knowed the mother that bore him, when she and I were little wee things, picking daisies together in the close yonder; and I've lived under the same roof with him more nor ten years; and after that I may come into his room without axing leave, and yet no sneaking neither."
"So you can, Mr. Bunce," said Skulpit; "so you can, any hour, day or night."
"And I'm free also to tell him my mind," continued Bunce, looking at the one man and addressing the other; "and I tell him now that he's done a foolish and a wrong thing: he's turned his back upon one who is his best friend; and is playing the game of others, who care nothing for him, whether he be poor or rich, well or ill, alive or dead. A hundred a year? Are the lot of you soft enough to think that if a hundred a year be
