"Of course they are. They're always bad. What was the Devil made for, except that they should be bad? But I should have thought you publicans were the last men who ought to complain."
"Lord love you, Mr. Vavasor; why, I suppose of all the men as is put upon, we're put upon the worst. What's the good of drawing of beer, if the more you draw the more you don't make. Yesterday as ever was was Saturday, and we drawed three pound ten and nine. What'll that come to, Mr. Vavasor, when you reckons it up with the brewer? Why, it's a next to nothing. You knows that well enough."

"Of course they are. They're always bad. But I should have thought you publicans were doing well."
"Lord love you, Mr. Vavasor; we're the worst put upon of men. Yesterday was Saturday, yet we only took three pound ten and nine. What'll that come to, Mr. Vavasor, when you reckons it up with the brewer? Why, it's next to nothing. 