“Now, Wegg, Wegg, Wegg,” remonstrated the excellent Boffin. “You are too sensitive.”

“I know I am, sir,” returned Wegg, with obstinate magnanimity. “I am acquainted with my faults. I always was, from a child, too sensitive.”

“But listen,” pursued the Golden Dustman; “hear me out, Wegg. You have taken it into your head that I mean to pension you off.”

“True, sir,” returned Wegg, still with an obstinate magnanimity. “I am acquainted with my faults. Far be it from me to deny them. I have taken it into my head.”

“But I don’t mean it.”