“You mean the little one of the three, with the pole atop, sir.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Boffin, rubbing his ear in his old way, with that new touch of craftiness added to it. “It has fetched a penny. It’ll begin to be carted off tomorrow.”

“Have you been out to take leave of your old friend, sir?” asked Silas, jocosely.

“No,” said Mr. Boffin. “What the devil put that in your head?”

He was so sudden and rough, that Wegg, who had been hovering closer and closer to his skirts, despatching the back of his hand on exploring expeditions in search of the bottle’s surface, retired two or three paces.

“No offence, sir,” said Wegg, humbly. “No offence.”