Bur. 'Twas I kept your ledger, all the time.
Job. I know you did.
Bur. From the time you took me out of the workhouse.
Job. Psha! rot the workhouse!
Bur. You never mention'd it to me yourself till to-day.
Job. I said it in a hurry.
Bur. And I've always remember'd it at leisure. I don't want to brag, but I hope I've been found faithful. It's rather hard to tell poor John Bur, the workhouse boy, after clothing, feeding, and making him your man of trust, for two and twenty years, that you wonder he don't run away from you, now you're in trouble.
Job. [Affected.] John—I beg your pardon.
[Stretching out his Hand.
Bur. [Taking his Hand.] Don't say a word more about it.