Page:The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club.djvu/583

487 THE PICKWICK CLUB. 487

master ; and still he lifted not his eyes from Mr. Job Trotter, who walked at his side in silence.

Job kept his eyes fixed on the ground for some time, and Sam with his, glued to Job's countenance, ran up against the people who were walking about, and fell over little children, and stumbled against steps and railings, without appearing at all sensible of it, until Job, looking stealthily up, said —

" How do you do, Mr. Weller ? '

" It is him ! " exclaimed Sam ; and having established Job's identity beyond all doubt, he smote his leg, and vented his feelings in a long shrill whistle.

" Things has altered with me. Sir," said Job.

his companion's rags with undisguised wonder. " This is rayther a change for the vorse, Mr. Trotter, as the gen'l'm'n said ven he got two doubtful shillin's and sixpenn'orth o* pocket-pieces for a good half- crown."
 * I should think they had," exclaimed Mr. Weller, surveying

" It is indeed," replied Job, shaking his head. " There is no decep- tion now, Mr. Weller. Tears," said Job, with a look of momentary slyness — " tears are not the only proofs of distress, nor the best ones."

" No, they ain't," replied Sam, expressively.

" They may be put on, Mr. Weller," said Job.

" I know they may," said Sam ; " some people, indeed, has 'em always ready laid on, and can pull out the plug venever they likes."

" Yes," replied Job ; " but these sort of things are not so easily counterfeited, Mr. Weller, and it is a more painful process to get them up." As he spoke, he pointed to his sallow sunken cheeks, and, draw- ing up his coat sleeve, disclosed an arm which looked as if the bone could be broken at a touch, so sharp and brittle did it appear beneath its thin covering of flesh.

" Wot have you been a doin' to yourself.''" said Sam, recoiling.

" Nothing," replied Job.

"Nothin'!" echoed Sam.

" I have been doin' nothing for many weeks past," said Job ; " and eating and drinking almost as little."

Sam took one comprehensive glance at Mr. Trotter's thin face and wretched apparel, and then seizing him by the arm, commenced drag- ging him away with great violence.

" Where are you going, Mr. Weller ? " said Job, vainly struggling in the powerful grasp of his old enemy.

" Come on," said Sam ; " come on." He deigned no further expla- nation till they reached the tap, and then called for a pot of porter, which was speedily produced.

the pot upside down, to let me see as you've took the med'cine."
 * 'Now," said Sam, " drink that up ev'ry drop on it ; and then turn

" But my dear Mr. Weller," remonstrated Job.

" Down vith it," said Sam, peremptorily.

Thus admonished, Mr. Trotter raised the pot to his lips,*iand, by gentle and almost imperceptible degrees, tilted it into the air. He paused once, and only once, to draw a long breath, but without raising