 said Joe, with a judicial touch or two of the poker
on the top bar, »rendering unto all their doo, and maintaining equal justice
betwixt man and man, my father were that good in his hart, don't you see?«
    I didn't see; but I didn't say so.
    »Well!« Joe pursued, »somebody must keep the pot a-biling, Pip, or the pot
won't bile, don't you know?«
    I saw that, and said so.
    »'Consequence, my father didn't make objections to my going to work; so I
went to work at my present calling, which were his too, if he would have
followed it, and I worked tolerable hard, I assure you, Pip. In time I were able
to keep him, and I kep him till he went off in a purple leptic fit. And it were
my intentions to have had put upon his tombstone that Whatsume'er the failings
on his part, Remember reader he were that good in his hart.«
    Joe recited this couplet with such manifest pride and careful perspicuity,
that I asked him if he had made it himself.
    »I made it,« said Joe, »my own self. I made it in a moment. It was like
striking out a horseshoe complete, in a single blow. I never was so much
surprised in all my life - couldn't credit my own ed - to tell you the truth,
hardly believed it were my own ed. As I was saying, Pip, it were my intentions
to have had it cut over him; but poetry costs money, cut it how you will, small
or large, and it were not done. Not to mention bearers, all the money that could
be spared were wanted for my mother. She were in poor elth, and quite broke. She
waren't long of following, poor soul, and her share of peace come round at
last.«
    Joe's blue eyes turned a little watery; he rubbed, first one of them, and
then the other, in a most uncongenial and uncomfortable manner, with the round
knob on the top of the poker.
    »It were but lonesome then,« said Joe, »living here alone, and I got
acquainted with your sister. Now, Pip;« Joe looked firmly at me, as if he knew I
was not going to agree with him; »your sister is a fine figure of a woman.«
    I could not help looking
