. Don't mind
him!'

With which extraordinary speech--for in the case of Chuffey this was a
burst of eloquence without a parallel--the poor old shadow drew through
his palsied arm his master's hand, and held it there, with his own
folded upon it, as if he would defend him.

'I grow deafer every day, Chuff,' said Anthony, with as much softness of
manner, or, to describe it more correctly, with as little hardness as he
was capable of expressing.

'No, no,' cried Chuffey. 'No, you don't. What if you did? I've been deaf
this twenty year.'

'I grow blinder, too,' said the old man, shaking his head.

'That's a good sign!' cried Chuffey. 'Ha! ha! The best sign in the
world! You saw too well before.'

He patted Anthony upon the hand as one might comfort a child, and
drawing the old man's arm still further through his own, shook his
trembling fingers towards the spot where Jonas sat, as though he would
wave him off. But, Anthony remaining quite still and silent, he relaxed
his hold by slow degrees and lapsed into his usual niche in the corner;
merely putting forth his hand at intervals and touching his old employer
gently on the coat, as with the design of assuring himself that he was
yet beside him.

Mr Jonas was so very much amazed by these proceedings that he could do
nothing but stare at the two old men, until Chuffey had fallen into his
usual state, and Anthony had sunk into a doze; when he gave some vent
to his emotions by going close up to the former personage, and making as
though he would, in vulgar parlance, 'punch his head.'

'They've been carrying on this game,' thought Jonas in a brown study,
'for the last two or three weeks. I never saw my father take so much
notice of him as he has in that time. What! You're legacy hunting, are
you, Mister Chuff? Eh?'

But Chuffey was as little conscious of the thought as of the bodily
advance of Mr Jonas's clenched fist, which hovered fondly about his ear.
When he had scowled at him to his heart's content, Jonas took the candle
from the table, and walking into the glass office, produced a bunch of
keys from his pocket. With one of these he opened a secret drawer in the
desk; peeping stealthily out, as he did so, to be certain that the two
old men were still before the fire.

'All as right as ever,' said Jonas, propping the lid of the desk open
with his forehead, and unfolding a paper. 'Here's the will, Mister
Chuff. Thirty pound a year for your maintenance, old boy, a