rted Quilp. 'Why do you talk to me of combining together? Do I
combine? Do I know anything about your combinings?'

'No no, sir--certainly not; not by any means,' returned Brass.

'If you so wink and nod at me,' said the dwarf, looking about him as if
for his poker, 'I'll spoil the expression of your monkey's face, I
will.' 'Don't put yourself out of the way I beg, sir,' rejoined Brass,
checking himself with great alacrity. 'You're quite right, sir, quite
right. I shouldn't have mentioned the subject, sir. It's much better
not to. You're quite right, sir. Let us change it, if you please.
You were asking, sir, Sally told me, about our lodger. He has not
returned, sir.'

'No?' said Quilp, heating some rum in a little saucepan, and watching
it to prevent its boiling over. 'Why not?'

'Why, sir,' returned Brass, 'he--dear me, Mr Quilp, sir--'

'What's the matter?' said the dwarf, stopping his hand in the act of
carrying the saucepan to his mouth.

'You have forgotten the water, sir,' said Brass. 'And--excuse me,
sir--but it's burning hot.'

Deigning no other than a practical answer to this remonstrance, Mr
Quilp raised the hot saucepan to his lips, and deliberately drank off
all the spirit it contained, which might have been in quantity about
half a pint, and had been but a moment before, when he took it off the
fire, bubbling and hissing fiercely. Having swallowed this gentle
stimulant, and shaken his fist at the admiral, he bade Mr Brass proceed.

'But first,' said Quilp, with his accustomed grin, 'have a drop
yourself--a nice drop--a good, warm, fiery drop.'

'Why, sir,' replied Brass, 'if there was such a thing as a mouthful of
water that could be got without trouble--'

'There's no such thing to be had here,' cried the dwarf. 'Water for
lawyers! Melted lead and brimstone, you mean, nice hot blistering
pitch and tar--that's the thing for them--eh, Brass, eh?'

'Ha ha ha!' laughed Mr Brass. 'Oh very biting! and yet it's like being
tickled--there's a pleasure in it too, sir!'

'Drink that,' said the dwarf, who had by this time heated some more.
'Toss it off, don't leave any heeltap, scorch your throat and be happy!'

The wretched Sampson took a few short sips of the liquor, which
immediately distilled itself into burning tears, and in that form came
rolling down his cheeks into the pipkin again, turning the colour of
his face and eyelids to a deep red, and giving rise to a violent fit of
coug