“I know they may,” said Sam; “some people, indeed, has ’em always ready laid on, and can pull out the plug wenever they likes.”

“Yes,” replied Job; “but these sort of things are not so easily counterfeited, Mr. Weller, and it is a more painful process to get them up.” As he spoke, he pointed to his sallow, sunken cheeks, and, drawing up his coat sleeve, disclosed an arm which looked as if the bone could be broken at a touch, so sharp and brittle did it appear, beneath its thin covering of flesh.

“Wot have you been a-doin’ to yourself?” said Sam, recoiling.

“Nothing,” replied Job.

“Nothin’!” echoed Sam.

“I have been doin’ nothing for many weeks past,” said Job; “and eating and drinking almost as little.”