“I don’t,” said Boffin, in a freehanded manner, “want to tie a literary man⁠— with a wooden leg⁠—down too tight. A halfpenny an hour shan’t part us. The hours are your own to choose, after you’ve done for the day with your house here. I live over Maiden-Lane way⁠—out Holloway direction⁠—and you’ve only got to go East-and-by-North when you’ve finished here, and you’re there. Twopence halfpenny an hour,” said Boffin, taking a piece of chalk from his pocket and getting off the stool to work the sum on the top of it in his own way; “two long’uns and a short’un⁠—twopence halfpenny; two short’uns is a long’un and two two long’uns is four long’uns⁠—making five long’uns; six nights a week at five long’uns a night,” scoring them all down separately, “and you mount up to thirty long’uns. A round’un! Half a crown!”

Pointing to this result as a large and satisfactory one, Mr. Boffin smeared it out with his moistened glove, and sat down on the remains.