original rise in his family: “you were one of a warious lot, and I don’t know.”
Silas puts his point in the improved form of “What will you take for me?”
“Well,” replies Venus, still blowing his tea, “I’m not prepared, at a moment’s notice, to tell you, Mr. Wegg.”
“Come! According to your own account I’m not worth much,” Wegg reasons persuasively.
“Not for miscellaneous working in, I grant you, Mr. Wegg; but you might turn out valuable yet, as a—” here Mr. Venus takes a gulp of tea, so hot that it makes him choke, and sets his weak eyes watering; “as a monstrosity, if you’ll excuse me.”
Repressing an indignant look, indicative of anything but a disposition to excuse him, Silas pursues his point.
“I think you know me, Mr. Venus, and I think you know I never bargain.”
Mr. Venus takes gulps of hot tea, shutting his eyes at every gulp, and opening them again in a spasmodic manner; but does not commit himself to assent.
“I have a prospect of getting on in life and elevating myself by my own independent exertions,” says Wegg, feelingly, “and I shouldn’t like—I tell you openly I should not like—under such circumstances, to be what I may call dispersed, a part of me here, and a part of me there, but should wish to collect myself like a genteel person.”
“It’s a prospect at present, is it, Mr. Wegg? Then you haven’t got the money for a deal about you? Then I’ll tell you what I’ll do with you; I’ll