“Come this way,” said Sam, suddenly jumping up, and grasping the mulberry man by the arm. “My mas’r’s the man you want, I see.” And after a slight resistance on the part of Job Trotter, Sam led his newly-found friend to the apartment of Mr. Pickwick, to whom he presented him, together with a brief summary of the dialogue we have just repeated.

“I am very sorry to betray my master, sir,” said Job Trotter, applying to his eyes a pink checked pocket-handkerchief about six inches square.

“The feeling does you a great deal of honour,” replied Mr. Pickwick; “but it is your duty, nevertheless.”

“I know it is my duty, Sir,” replied Job, with great emotion. “We should all try to discharge our duty, Sir, and I humbly endeavour to discharge mine, Sir; but it is a hard trial to betray a master, Sir, whose clothes you wear, and whose bread you eat, even though he is a scoundrel, Sir.”