“What do you call cobblers’ punch?” demanded Wegg, in a worse humour than before.

“It’s difficult to impart the receipt for it, sir,” returned Venus, “because, however particular you may be in allotting your materials, so much will still depend upon the individual gifts, and there being a feeling thrown into it. But the groundwork is gin.”

“In a Dutch bottle?” said Wegg gloomily, as he sat himself down.

“Very good, sir, very good!” cried Venus. “Will you partake, sir?”

“Will I partake?” returned Wegg very surlily. “Why, of course I will! Will a man partake, as has been tormented out of his five senses by an everlasting dustman with his head tied up! Will he, too! As if he wouldn’t!”