Father and son, extremely like each other, looking silently on at the morning traffic in Fleet-street, with their two heads as near to one another as the two eyes of each were, bore a considerable resemblance to a pair of monkeys.
The resemblance was not lessened by the accidental circumstance, that the mature Jerry bit and spat out straw, while the twinkling eyes of the youthful Jerry were as restlessly watchful of him as of everything else in Fleet-street.
The head of one of the regular indoor messengers attached to Tellson's establishment was put through the door, and the word was given:
"Porter wanted!"
"Hooray, father! Here's an early job to begin with!"
Having thus given his parent God speed, young Jerry seated himself on the stool, entered on his reversionary interest in the straw his father had been chewing, and cogitated.
"Al-ways rusty! His fingers is al-ways rusty!" muttered young Jerry. "Where does my father get all that iron rust from? He don't get no iron rust here!"
II. A Sight
You know the Old Bailey well, no doubt?" said one of the oldest of clerks to Jerry the messenger.
"Ye-es, sir," returned Jerry, in something of a dogged manner. "I do know the Bailey."