“Well, then,” said Sam, with some sternness, “wot do you persevere in bein’ obstinit for, vastin’ your precious life away, in this here magnified pound? Wy don’t you give in, and tell the Chancellorship that you’re wery sorry for makin’ his court contemptible, and you won’t do so no more?”

The cobbler put his pipe in the corner of his mouth, while he smiled, and then brought it back to its old place again; but said nothing.

“Wy don’t you?” said Sam, urging his question strenuously.

“Ah,” said the cobbler, “you don’t quite understand these matters. What do you suppose ruined me, now?”

“Wy,” said Sam, trimming the rushlight, “I s’pose the beginnin’ wos, that you got into debt, eh?”

“Never owed a farden,” said the cobbler; “try again.”