"More than that, eh!" retorted Mr. Jaggers, lying in wait for me, with his hands in his pockets, his head on one side, and his eyes on the wall behind me; "how much more?"

     "It is so difficult to fix a sum," said I, hesitating.

     "Come!" said Mr. Jaggers. "Let's get at it. Twice five; will that do? Three times five; will that do? Four times five; will that do?"

     I said I thought that would do handsomely.

     "Four times five will do handsomely, will it?" said Mr. Jaggers, knitting his brows. "Now, what do you make of four times five?"

     "What do I make of it?"

     "Ah!" said Mr. Jaggers; "how much?"

     "I suppose you make it twenty pounds," said I, smiling.

     "Never mind what I make it, my friend," observed Mr. Jaggers, with a knowing and contradictory toss of his head. "I want to know what you make it."

     "Twenty pounds, of course."

     "Wemmick!" said Mr. Jaggers, opening his office door. "Take Mr. Pip's written order, and pay him twenty pounds."