 interest in his proceedings, nevertheless.
    »You're a rum 'un to look at, you are!« thought Mr. Weller, the first time
his eyes encountered the glance of the stranger in the mulberry suit: who had a
large, sallow, ugly face, very sunken eyes, and a gigantic head, from which
depended a quantity of lank black hair. »You're a rum 'un!« thought Mr. Weller;
and thinking this, he went on washing himself, and thought no more about him.
    Still the man kept glancing from his hymn-book to Sam, and from Sam to his
hymn-book, as if he wanted to open a conversation. So at last, Sam, by way of
giving him an opportunity, said with a familiar nod -
    »How are you, governor?«
    »I am happy to say, I am pretty well, sir,« said the man, speaking with
great deliberation, and closing the book. »I hope you are the same, sir?«
    »Why, if I felt less like a walking brandy-bottle, I shouldn't be quite so
staggery this mornin',« replied Sam. »Are you stoppin' in this house, old 'un?«
    The mulberry man replied in the affirmative.
    »How was it, you worn't one of us, last night?« inquired Sam, scrubbing his
face with the towel. »You seem one of the jolly sort - looks as conwivial as a
live trout in a lime basket,« added Mr. Weller, in an under tone.
    »I was out last night, with my master,« replied the stranger.
    »What's his name?« inquired Mr. Weller, colouring up very red with sudden
excitement, and the friction of the towel combined.
    »Fitz-Marshall,« said the mulberry man.
    »Give us your hand,« said Mr. Weller, advancing; »I should like to know you.
I like your appearance, old fellow.«
    »Well, that is very strange,« said the mulberry man, with great simplicity
of manner. »I like your's so much, that I wanted to speak to you, from the very
first moment I saw you under the pump.«
    »Did you though?«
    »Upon my word. Now, isn't that curious.«
    »Wery sing'ler,« said Sam, inwardly congratulating himself upon the softness
of the stranger. »What's your name, my
