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The Pickwick Papers 104







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than that, my masters going to be married. No. Yes; and worse than that, too, hes going to run away with an immense rich heiress, from boarding-school. What a dragon! said Sam, refilling his companions glass. Its some boarding-school in this town, I suppose, aint it? Now, although this question was put in the most careless tone imaginable, Mr. Job Trotter plainly showed by gestures that he perceived his new friends anxiety to draw forth an answer to it. He emptied his glass, looked mysteriously at his companion, winked both of his small eyes, one after the other, and finally made a motion with his arm, as if he were working an imaginary pump-handle; thereby intimating that he (Mr. Trotter) considered himself as undergoing the process of being pumped by Mr. Samuel Weller. No, no, said Mr. Trotter, in conclusion, thats not to be told to everybody. That is a secret--a great secret, Mr. Walker. As the mulberry man said this, he turned his glass upside down, by way of reminding his companion that he had nothing left wherewith to slake his thirst. Sam observed the hint; and feeling the delicate manner in which it was conveyed, ordered the pewter vessel to be refilled, whereat the small eyes of the mulberry man glistened. And so its a secret? said Sam. I should rather suspect it was, said the mulberry man, sipping his liquor, with a complacent face. i suppose your masrs wery rich? said Sam. Mr. Trotter smiled, and holding his glass in his left hand, gave four distinct slaps on the pockets of his mulberry indescribables with his right, as if to intimate that his master might have done the same without alarming anybody much by the chinking of coin. Ah, said Sam, thats the game, is it? The mulberry man nodded significantly. Well, and dont you think, old feller, remonstrated Mr. Weller, that if you let your master take in this here young lady, youre a precious rascal? I know that, said Job Trotter, turning upon his companion a countenance of deep contrition, and groaning slightly, I know that, and thats what it is that preys upon my mind. But what am I to do? Do! said Sam; di-wulge to the missis, and give up your master. Whod believe me? replied Job Trotter. The young ladys considered the very picture of innocence and discretion. Shed deny it, and so would my master. Whod believe me? I should lose my place, and get indicted for a conspiracy, or some such thing; thats all I should take by my motion. Theres somethin in that, said Sam, ruminating; theres somethin in that. If I knew any respectable gentleman who would take the matter up, continued Mr. Trotter. I might have some hope of preventing the elopement; but theres the same difficulty, Mr. Walker, just the same. I know no gentleman in this strange place; and ten to one if I did, whether he would believe my story. Come this way, said Sam, suddenly jumping up, and grasping the mulberry man by the arm. My masrs the man you want, I see. And after a slight resistance on the part of Job Trotter, Sam led his newly-found friend to the apartment of Mr. Pickwick, to whom he presented him, together with a brief summary of the dialogue we have just repeated. I am very sorry to betray my master, sir, said Job Trotter, applying to his eyes a pink checked pocket-handkerchief about six inches square. The feeling does you a great deal of honour, replied Mr. Pickwick; but it is your duty, nevertheless. I know it is my duty, Sir, replied Job, with great emotion. We should all try to discharge our duty, Sir, and I humbly endeavour to discharge mine, Sir; but it is a hard trial to betray a master, Sir, whose clothes you wear, and whose bread you eat, even though he is a scoundrel, Sir. You are a very good fellow, said Mr. Pickwick, much affected; an honest fellow. Come, come, interposed Sam, who had witnessed Mr. Trotters tears with considerable impatience, blow this ere water-cart bisness. It wont do no good, this wont. Sam, said Mr. Pickwick reproachfully. I am sorry to find that you have so little respect for this young mans feelings. His feelins is all wery well, Sir, replied Mr. Weller; and as theyre so wery fine, and its a pity he should lose em, I think hed better keep em in his own buzzum, than let em ewaporate in hot water, specially as they do no good. Tears

The Pickwick Papers page 103        The Pickwick Papers page 105