'Your master is morally bound--and ought to be legally, under ruinous penalties--to provide for the comfort of his fellow-man.' The driver instituted, with the palms of his hands, a superficial perquisition into the state of his skeleton; which seemed to make him anxious.
'Have I sat upon you ?' asked the passenger.
'You have,' said the driver, as if he didn't like it at all.
'Take that card, my friend.' 'I think I won't deprive you on it,' returned the driver, casting his eyes over it with no great favour, without taking it.

'What's the good of it to me ?' 'Be a Member of that Society,' said the passenger.
'What shall I get by it ?' asked the driver.
'Brotherhood,' returned the passenger, in a ferocious voice.
'Thankee,' said the driver, very deliberately, as he got down; 'my mother was contented with myself, and so am I.

I don't want no brothers.' 'But you must have them,' replied the passenger, also descending, 'whether you like it or not.

I am your brother.' 'I say!' expostulated the driver, becoming more chafed in temper, 'not too fur! The worm _will_, when--' But here, Mr.Crisparkle interposed, remonstrating aside, in a friendly voice: 'Joe, Joe, Joe! don't forget yourself, Joe, my good fellow!' and then, when Joe peaceably touched his hat, accosting the passenger with: 'Mr.Honeythunder ?' 'That is my name, sir.' 'My name is Crisparkle.' 'Reverend Mr.Septimus?
Glad to see you, sir.

Neville and Helena are inside.