‘Very good, sir, very good!’ cried Venus. ‘Will you partake, sir?’
‘Will I partake?’ returned Wegg very surlily. ‘Why, of course I will! Will a man partake, as has been tormented out of his five senses by an everlasting dustman with his head tied up! Will he, too! As if he wouldn’t!’
‘Don’t let it put you out, Mr Wegg. You don’t seem in your usual spirits.’
‘If you come to that, you don’t seem in your usual spirits,’ growled Wegg. ‘You seem to be setting up for lively.’
This circumstance appeared, in his then state of mind, to give Mr Wegg uncommon offence.
‘And you’ve been having your hair cut!’ said Wegg, missing the usual dusty shock.
‘Yes, Mr Wegg. But don’t let that put you out, either.’
‘And I am blest if you ain’t getting fat!’ said Wegg, with culminating discontent. ‘What are you going to do next?’
‘Well, Mr Wegg,’ said Venus, smiling in a sprightly manner, ‘I suspect you could hardly guess what I am going to do next.’
‘I don’t want to guess,’ retorted Wegg. ‘All I’ve got to say is, that it’s well for you that the diwision of labour has been what it has been. It’s well for you to have had so light a part in this business, when mine has been so heavy. You haven’t had your rest broke, I’ll be bound.’