_Snob._ Peter's pence--eh?--well, if we maint speak of a Sunday in the street, let's come in--ours, you know, is a back room, up two pair--they can't hear us there--come along--I say, what shall we have to drink? _Snip._ There's nothing but vater for us as can't afford vine--public-houses is shut--no sarving Sabbath-day. _Snob._ Vell, never mind--ve'll try and cheat the old un. There are cunninger dogs than the law-makers, and them is the law-breakers. Go and ask missus to come and join us. _Snip._ Oh, she'll come, and jump too; and I tells ye what--as we know'd we could not have no heavy wet to-day, she got a couple of bottles of Jacky, as will nourish us through the arternoon. _Snob._ So it will, Bill; and we won't stir out at all. If we can't have a drop o' short, or a swig o' heavy among the rurals in the harbours--what's the country to us, we can't live upon hair? _Snip._ No, not by no means. If I could but get my chin scraped, I'd try and make myself comfortable. _Snob._ Is barber Jem at home? _Snip._ Yes, shut up in his back parlour a-making wigs, where nobody can see him. _Snob._ I tell ye vot, let's ax him to eat a bit of our mutton. He han't got nobody to cook for him, poor buffer, so we'll ax him over; and then if he brings his soap and a kipple of razors in his vestcoat pockets, he can shave us two, just by way of amusement, while Sal's getting the line ready. _Snip._ Amusement!--that's quite gone out,--there's my poor missus, who used to get from eighteen to four-and-twenty shillings a-week a-manty making in Crambo Alley, can't get a stitch o' work to do--nobody wears nothing now--they used only to put on their bits of things onest a-week, to show 'em like, and now they marnt go out a-pleasuring o' Sundays, they buys nothing. _Snob._ Vell, come along up stairs, we'll have a day on it. please the pigs; your two bottles of Jacky will last us till bed-time, and I'll toss you up who pays for both--I'm not going to swelter out in the sun to walk. _Snip._ Nor I--I'll be with you in a twinkling, and when we have got my missus and barber Jem, we'll just lock the door, and drink confusion to the reformers. For the sequel we have not room in detail. Snip, Snob, and barber Jem, ensconced in their fast-hold, pass the Sabbath with the females, in hidden intoxication and carefully-concealed profligacy--drunkenness progresses. Barber Jem contributes from his store over the way to the replenishment of the gin-bottle. Jealousy grows out of familiarity: the women tear each other's caps, and scratch each other's faces. Snob knocks Snip over the balusters, and barber Jem is taken to the station-house dead-drunk.