bore aloft, as though it were a sword, a well-worn ink-black pen,
which from time to time he endeavoured to thrust into Skulpit's
unwilling hand.

With the learned man were his two abettors in indecision, William Gazy
and Jonathan Crumple. If ever the petition were to be forwarded, now
was the time,--so said Mr Finney; and great was the anxiety on the
part of those whose one hundred pounds a year, as they believed,
mainly depended on the document in question.

"To be kept out of all that money," as the avaricious Moody had
muttered to his friend Handy, "by an old fool saying that he can
write his own name like his betters!"

"Well, Job," said Handy, trying to impart to his own sour,
ill-omened visage a smile of approbation, in which he greatly
failed; "so you're ready now, Mr Finney says; here's the
place, d'ye see;"--and he put his huge brown finger down on
the dirty paper;--"name or mark, it's all one. Come along,
old boy; if so be we're to have the spending of this money,
why the sooner the better,--that's my maxim."

"To be sure," said Moody. "We a'n't none of us so young; we can't
stay waiting for old Catgut no longer."

It was thus these miscreants named our excellent friend. The nickname
he could easily have forgiven, but the allusion to the divine source
of all his melodious joy would have irritated even him. Let us hope
he never knew the insult.