Oh, my young friend,' said Mr Stiggins, breaking the silence, in a very

low voice, 'here's a sorrowful affliction!'

Sam nodded very slightly.

'For the man of wrath, too!' added Mr Stiggins; 'it makes a vessel's

heart bleed!' Mr Weller was overheard by his son to murmur

something relative to making a vessel's nose bleed; but Mr Stiggins

heard him not. 'Do you know, young man,' whispered Mr Stiggins,

drawing his chair closer to Sam, 'whether she has left Emanuel

anything?'

Who's he?' inquired Sam.

The chapel,' replied Mr Stiggins; 'our chapel; our fold, Mr Samuel.'

She hasn't left the fold nothin', nor the shepherd nothin', nor the

animals nothin',' said Sam decisively; 'nor the dogs neither.'

Mr Stiggins looked slily at Sam; glanced at the old gentleman, who

was sitting with his eyes closed, as if asleep; and drawing his chair

still nearer, said -

'Nothing for ME, Mr Samuel?'

Sam shook his head.

'I think there's something,' said Stiggins, turning as pale as he could

turn. 'Consider, Mr Samuel; no little token?'

'Not so much as the vorth o' that 'ere old umberella o' yourn,' replied

Sam.

'Perhaps,' said Mr Stiggins hesitatingly, after a few moments' deep

thought, 'perhaps she recommended me to the care of the man of

wrath, Mr Samuel?'

I think that's wery likely, from what he said,' rejoined Sam; 'he wos a-

speakin' about you, jist now.'

Was he, though?' exclaimed Stiggins, brightening up. 'Ah! He's

changed, I dare say. We might live very comfortably together now, Mr

Samuel, eh? I could take care of his property when you are away -

good care, you see.'

Heaving a long-drawn sigh, Mr Stiggins paused for a response.

The Pickwick Papers