“ Mr. Boffin,” returned Wegg in avaricious humiliation: “when I first had the honour of making your acquaintance, I had got together a collection of ballads which was, I may say, above price.”

“Then they can’t be paid for,” said John Harmon, “and you had better not try, my dear sir.”

“Pardon me, Mr. Boffin,” resumed Wegg, with a malignant glance in the last speaker’s direction, “I was putting the case to you, who, if my senses did not deceive me, put the case to me. I had a very choice collection of ballads, and there was a new stock of gingerbread in the tin box. I say no more, but would rather leave it to you.”