Sam can no more resist a dog, my dear Mr.O'Day, than a drunkard can a rum-mill, can you, Sam ?" "At it again, are you, Nat ?" wheezed the wizened old gentleman, dusting his fingers as he reappeared from behind the canvases, his watery eyes edged with a deeper red, due to his exertions.

"Don't pay any attention to him, Mr.O'Day.

What he says isn't half true, and the half that is true isn't worth listening to.

Now tell me about that frame he's ordered.

He don't want it, and I've told him so.