“Wot’s a prophet?” inquired Mr. Weller, looking sternly on his son.

“Wy, a man as tells what’s a-goin’ to happen,” replied Sam.

“I wish I’d know’d him, Sammy,” said Mr. Weller. “P’raps he might ha’ throw’d a small light on that ’ere liver complaint as we wos a-speakin’ on, just now. Hows’ever, if he’s dead, and ain’t left the bisness to nobody, there’s an end on it. Go on, Sammy,” said Mr. Weller, with a sigh.

“Well,” said Sam, “you’ve been a-prophecyin’ avay about wot’ll happen to the gov’ner if he’s left alone. Don’t you see any way o’ takin’ care on him?”

“No, I don’t, Sammy,” said Mr. Weller, with a reflective visage.