'Well, and don't you think, old feller,' remonstrated Mr. Weller, 'that if you let your master take in this here young lady, you're a precious rascal?'
'I know that,' said Job Trotter, turning upon his companion a countenance of deep contrition, and groaning slightly, 'I know that, and that's what it is that preys upon my mind. But what am I to do?'
'Do!' said Sam; 'di-wulge to the missis, and give up your master.'