"Is it gold?" "Pure gold," replied Kneebone. " "Well, Sir, I'm obliged to you," said Jackson; "I shall take care to put Mr. He turned to Mrs. “John?” He turned around in the recliner. “She can’t go now. Mr. Satisfied in this respect, he flung himself into a chair, for his iron frame seldom required the indulgence of a bed, and sought an hour's repose before he began the villanies of another day. Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER.
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