"Sir," said Mr. Shrig. "I knows v'en to speak and v'en not. My eyes tells me who I can trust and who not. And, sir, I've took to you, and so's the Corp,—ain't you, Dick?"
"Yes, sir," said the giant diffidently.
"Sir," pursued Mr. Shrig, "you're a Nob, I know, a Corinthian by your looks, a Buck, sir, a Dash, a 'eavy Toddler, but also, I takes the liberty o' telling you as you're only a man, arter all, like the rest on us, and it's that man as I'm a-talking to. Now v'en a man 'as stood up for me, shed 'is good blood for me, I makes that man my pal, and my pal I allus trusts."
"And you shall find me worthy of your confidence," said Barnabas, "and there's my hand on it, though, indeed, you hardly know me—really."
"More than you think, sir. Besides, it ain't v'ot a cove tells me about 'imself as matters, nor v'ot other coves tell me about a cove, as matters, it's v'ot a cove carries in 'is face as I goes by,—the cock of 'is eye, an' all the rest of it. And then, I knows as your name's Barnabas Barty—"
"Barty!—you know that?" exclaimed Barnabas, starting,—"how—how in the world did you find out?"
"Took the liberty to look at your vatch, sir."
"Watch!" said Barnabas, drawing it from his fob, "what do you mean?"
"Give it 'ere, and I'll show ye, sir." So saying, Mr. Shrig took the great timepiece and, opening the back, handed it to Barnabas. And there, in the cavity between the two cases was a very small folded paper, and upon this paper, in Natty Bell's handwriting, these words:
"To my dear lad Barnabas Barty, hoping that he may prove
as fine a gentleman as he is—a man."