CHAPTER II.

Like and unlike.

The old woman stared a gasp, first, at one of the young men, then at the other.

Why, then, he isn't Jim, she exclaimed.

Who isn't Jim, grandmother?

What do you mean?

Here I am, back again, a bundle of aching bones, old rags and empty pockets.

I've done no good where I've been, so you needn't ask me for any money, for I haven't

learned a farthing, either by fair means or foul.

But the other, she said, this young gentleman, look at him, Jim.

The man took up the candle, snuffed it with his fingers, and walked straight to Jubez.

He held the light before the face of the usher, and surveyed him, with a leisurely stare.

That individual's blue eyes winked, and blinked at the flame, like an owl's in the sunshine,

and looked every way, except straight into the eyes, looking into his.

Why, curse's impudence, said the man, with a faint sickly laugh?

I'm blessed if he hasn't been and boned by mug.

I hope it'll do a more good than it's done me, he added bitterly.

I can't make out the meaning of this, mumble the old woman.

It's all dark to me.

I saw where the other one was put myself.

I saw it done, and safely done too.

Oh, yes, of course.

...