“Yes, Mr. Weller,” replied Emma; “we always have on Christmas Eve. Master wouldn’t neglect to keep it up on any account.”

“Your master’s a wery pretty notion of keeping anythin’ up, my dear,” said Mr. Weller; “I never see such a sensible sort of man as he is, or such a reg’lar gen’l’m’n.”

“Oh, that he is!” said the fat boy, joining in the conversation; “don’t he breed nice pork!” The fat youth gave a semi-cannibalic leer at Mr. Weller, as he thought of the roast legs and gravy.

“Oh, you’ve woke up, at last, have you?” said Sam.

The fat boy nodded.