You say at the end of your letter, that your hands are cold, or your hand aches with holdin' a pullin' horse, and you'll thank him to correct any inadvertencies--you needn't call them errors, you know.' 'But where's the use of it ?' exclaimed Sponge; 'it'll do us no good, you know, praisin' Puff's pack, or himself, or anything about him.' 'That's just the point,' said Jack, 'that's just the point.

I can make it answer both our purposes,' said he, with a nudge of the elbow, and an inside-out squint of his eyes.
'Oh, that's another matter,' replied our friend; 'if we can turn the thing to account, well and good--I'm your man for a shy.' 'We _can_ turn it to account,' rejoined Jack; 'we _can_ turn it to account--at least _I_ can; but then you must do it.

He wouldn't take it as any compliment from me.

It's the stranger that sees all things in their true lights.

D'ye understand ?' asked he eagerly.
'I twig,' replied Sponge.
'You write the account,' continued Jack, 'and I'll manage the rest.' 'You must help me,' observed Sponge.
'Certainly,' replied Jack; 'we'll do it together, and go halves in the plunder.' 'Humph,' mused Sponge: 'halves,' said he to himself.