Master said nothink, but he GRIN'D--my eye, how he did grin. Not
the fowl find himself could snear more satannickly.

I knew what he meant:

Imprimish. A man who plays the floot is a simpleton.

Secknly. Mr. Blewitt is a raskle.

Thirdmo. When a raskle and a simpleton is always together, and
when the simpleton is RICH, one knows pretty well what will come of
it.

I was but a lad in them days, but I knew what was what, as well as
my master; it's not gentlemen only that's up to snough. Law bless
us! there was four of us on this stairkes, four as nice young men
as you ever see: Mr. Bruffy's young man, Mr. Dawkinses, Mr.
Blewitt's, and me--and we knew what our masters was about as well
as thay did theirselfs. Frinstance, I can say this for MYSELF,
there wasn't a paper in Deuceace's desk or drawer, not a bill, a
note, or mimerandum, which I hadn't read as well as he: with
Blewitt's it was the same--me and his young man used to read 'em
all. There wasn't a bottle of wine that we didn't get a glass out
of, nor a pound of sugar that we didn't have some lumps of it. We
had keys to all the cubbards--we pipped into all the letters that
kem and went---we pored over all the bill-files--we'd the best
pickens out of the dinners, the livvers of the fowls, the forcemit
balls out of the soup, the egs from the sallit. As for the coals
and candles, we left them to the landrisses. You may call this