Borough market; and to him the thin gentleman straightway advanced.
"My friend," said the thin gentleman.
"You're one o' the adwice gratis order," thought Sam, or you wouldn't be so werry fond o' me all at once." But he only said—"Well, sir."
"My friend," said the thin gentleman, with a conciliatory hem—"Have you got many people stopping here, now? Pretty busy. Eh?"
Sam stole a look at the inquirer. He was a little high-dried man, with a dark squeezed-up face, and small restless black eyes, that kept winking and twinkling on each side of his little inquisitive nose, as if they were playing a perpetual game of peep-bo with that feature. He was dressed all in black, with boots as shiny as his eyes, a low white neckcloth, and a clean shirt with a frill to it. A gold watch-chain, and seals, depended from his fob. He carried his black kid gloves in his hands, not on them; and as he spoke, thrust his wrists beneath his coat-tails, with the air of a man who was in the habit of propounding some regular posers.
"Pretty busy, eh?" said the little man.
"Oh, werry well, sir," replied Sam, "we shan't be bankrupts, and we shan't make our fort'ns. We eats our biled mutton without capers, and don't care for horse-radish wen've can get beef."
"Ah," said the little man, "you're a wag, a'nt you?"
"My eldest brother was troubled with that complaint," said Sam; "it may be catching—I used to sleep with him."
"This is a curious old house of yours," said the little man, looking round him. ouse of yours,"
"If you'd sent word you was a coming, we'd ha' had it repaired;" replied the imperturbable Sam.
The little man seemed rather baffled by these several repulses. and a short consultation took place between him and the two plump gentlemen. At its conclusion, the little man took a pinch of snuff from an oblong silver box, and was apparently
