Doggrass: Now, Jacob, how fares Captain Crosstree?

Jacob: Better; it is thought he will recover.

Doggrass: Another disappointment, yet, by the rules of the service, William must die. Here, Jacob, I've something for you to--

Jacob: I've something for you, sir. [Gives him money]

Doggrass: Why, what's this?

Jacob: Three guineas, two shillings, and sixpence half-penny! That's just, sir, what I've received of you since I've been in your employ.

Doggrass: Well, and what of that?

Jacob: I don't feel comfortable with it, sir; I'd thank you to take it.

Doggrass: Take it! Are you mad?

Jacob: No, sir--I have been; I have been wicked, and I now think--and I wish you would think so too--that all wickedness is madness.

Doggrass: How is all this brought about?

Jacob: A short tale, sir; it's all with the