“But it’s difficult to name what’s right,” said Mr. Boffin uneasily, with his hand in his pocket, “and I don’t want to go beyond what’s right, because you really have turned out such a very bad fellow. So artful, and so ungrateful you have been, Wegg; for when did I ever injure you?”

“There was also,” Mr. Wegg went on, in a meditative manner, “a errand connection, in which I was much respected. But I would not wish to be deemed covetous, and I would rather leave it to you, Mr. Boffin.”

“Upon my word, I don’t know what to put it at,” the Golden Dustman muttered.

“There was likewise,” resumed Wegg, “a pair of trestles, for which alone a Irish person, who was deemed a judge of trestles, offered five and six — a sum I would not hear of, for I should have lost by it- -and there was a stool, a umbrella, a clothes-horse, and a tray. But I leave it to you, Mr. Boffin.”

The Golden Dustman seeming to be engaged in some abstruse calculation, Mr. Wegg assisted him with the following additional items.

“There was, further, Miss Elizabeth, Master George, Aunt Jane, and Uncle Parker. Ah! When a man thinks of the loss of such patronage as that; when a man finds so fair a garden rooted up by pigs; he finds it hard indeed, without going high, to work it into money. But I leave it wholly to you, sir.”

Mr. Sloppy still continued his singular, and on the surface his incomprehensible, movement.

“Leading on has been mentioned,” said Wegg with a melancholy air, “and it’s not easy to say how far the tone of my mind may have been lowered by unwholesome reading on the subject of Misers, when you was leading me and others on to think you one yourself, sir. All I can say is, that I felt my tone of mind a lowering at the time. And how can a man put a price upon his mind! There was likewise a hat just now. But I leave the ole to you, Mr. Boffin.”

“Come!” said Mr. Boffin. “Here’s a couple of pound.”

“In justice to myself, I couldn’t take it, sir.”

The words were but out of his mouth when John Harmon lifted his finger, and Sloppy, who was now close to Wegg, backed to Wegg’s back, stooped, grasped his coat collar behind with both hands, and deftly swung him up like the sack of flour or coals before mentioned. A countenance of special discontent and amazement Mr. Wegg exhibited in this position, with his buttons almost as prominently on view as Sloppy’s own, and with his wooden leg in a highly unaccommodating state. But, not for many seconds was his countenance visible in the room; for, Sloppy lightly trotted out with him and trotted down the staircase, Mr. Venus attending to open the street door. Mr. Sloppy’s instructions had been to deposit his burden in the road; but, a scavenger’s cart happening to stand unattended at the corner, with its little ladder planted against the wheel, Mr. S. found it impossible to resist the temptation of shooting Mr. Silas Wegg into the cart’s contents. A somewhat difficult feat, achieved with great dexterity, and with a prodigious splash.