Scene 2.—Job, half starved and half dead from the fatigues of his long walk, finds his way into an old woman’s hut, which unfortunately is the rendezvous of three highwaymen.
“Moll, the stool,” said one of the men.
The stool ordered was thrown towards Job, who sank resignedly upon it.
“What’s o’clock?” asked Bats, one of the robbers.
A BORROWED WATCH.
Job leaped from the stool in amazement, clapped his hand to his waistcoat pocket, and drew forth a splendid gold watch, the late property of Sir Scipio. Job had merely borrowed it to time the pulse of the apoplectic knight, and forgot to return it. The eyes of the highwayman were fixed leeringly upon the chronometer. They gave no heed to the embarrassment of the possessor.
“I say, friend, time must be worth something to you to score it by such a watch.”
“It isn’t mine,” cried Job, the perspiration starting from every pore of his body.