They was born to do it,
and do it they must, whatever comes of it.'
Glancing from his work out at the door as he said these words, Mark's
eyes encountered a lean person in a blue frock and a straw hat, with
a short black pipe in his mouth, and a great hickory stick studded all
over with knots, in his hand; who smoking and chewing as he came along,
and spitting frequently, recorded his progress by a train of decomposed
tobacco on the ground.
'Here's one on 'em,' cried Mark, 'Hannibal Chollop.'
'Don't let him in,' said Martin, feebly.
'He won't want any letting in,' replied Mark. 'He'll come in, sir.'
Which turned out to be quite true, for he did. His face was almost as
hard and knobby as his stick; and so were his hands. His head was like
an old black hearth-broom. He sat down on the chest with his hat on;
and crossing his legs and looking up at Mark, said, without removing his
pipe:
'Well, Mr Co.! and how do you git along, sir?'
It may be necessary to observe that Mr Tapley had gravely introduced
himself to all strangers, by that name.
'Pretty well, sir; pretty well,' said Mark.
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