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The Pickwick Papers 309







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The Pickwick Papers

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got such a game for you, Sammy, said the elder Mr. Weller, rising. Stop a minit, said Sam, youre all vite behind. Thats right, Sammy, rub it off, said Mr. Weller, as his son dusted him. It might look personal here, if a man walked about with vitevash on his clothes, eh, Sammy? As Mr. Weller exhibited in this place unequivocal symptoms of an approaching fit of chuckling, Sam interposed to stop it. Keep quiet, do, said Sam, there never vos such a old picter- card born. Wot are you bustin vith, now? Sammy, said Mr. Weller, wiping his forehead, Im afeerd that vun o these days I shall laugh myself into a appleplexy, my boy. Vell, then, wot do you do it for? said Sam. Now, then, wot have you got to say? Who do you thinks come here with me, Samivel? said Mr. Weller, drawing back a pace or two, pursing up his mouth, and extending his eyebrows. Pell? said Sam. Mr. Weller shook his head, and his red cheeks expanded with the laughter that was endeavouring to find a vent. Mottled-faced man, praps? asked Sam. Again Mr. Weller shook his head. Who then?asked Sam. Your mother-in-law, said Mr. Weller; and it was lucky he did say it, or his cheeks must inevitably have cracked, from their most unnatural distension. Your mother--in--law, Sammy, said Mr. Weller, and the red-nosed man, my boy; and the red-nosed man. Ho! ho! ho! With this, Mr. Weller launched into convulsions of laughter, while Sam regarded him with a broad grin gradually over- spreading his whole countenance. Theyve come to have a little serious talk with you, Samivel, said Mr. Weller, wiping his eyes. Dont let out nothin about the unnatral creditor, Sammy. Wot, dont they know who it is? inquired Sam. Not a bit on it, replied his father. Vere are they? said Sam, reciprocating all the old gentlemans grins. In the snuggery, rejoined Mr. Weller. Catch the red-nosed man a-goin anyvere but vere the liquors is; not he, Samivel, not he. Ved a wery pleasant ride along the road from the Markis this mornin, Sammy, said Mr. Weller, when he felt himself equal to the task of speaking in an articulate manner. I drove the old piebald in that ere little shay-cart as belonged to your mother-in-laws first wenter, into vich a harm-cheer wos lifted for the shepherd; and Im blessed, said Mr. Weller, with a look of deep scorn--Im blessed if they didnt bring a portable flight o steps out into the road a-front o our door for him, to get up by. You dont mean that? said Sam. I do mean that, Sammy, replied his father, and I vish you could ha seen how tight he held on by the sides wen he did get up, as if he wos afeerd o being precipitayted down full six foot, and dashed into a million hatoms. He tumbled in at last, however, and avay ve vent; and I rayther think--I say I rayther think, Samivel--that he found his-self a little jolted ven ve turned the corners. Wot, I spose you happened to drive up agin a post or two? said Sam. Im afeerd, replied Mr. Weller, in a rapture of winks--Im afeerd I took vun or two on em, Sammy; he wos a-flyin out o the arm-cheer all the way. Here the old gentleman shook his head from side to side, and was seized with a hoarse internal rumbling, accompanied with a violent swelling of the countenance, and a sudden increase in the breadth of all his features; symptoms which alarmed his son not a little. Dont be frightened, Sammy, dont be frightened, said the old gentleman, when by dint of much struggling, and various convulsive stamps upon the ground, he had recovered his voice. Its only a kind o quiet laugh as Im a-tryin to come, Sammy. Well, if thats wot it is, said Sam, youd better not try to come it agin. Youll find it rayther a dangerous inwention. Dont you like it, Sammy? inquired the old gentleman. Not at all, replied Sam. Well, said Mr. Weller, with the tears still running down his cheeks, it ud ha been a wery great accommodation to me if I could ha done it, and ud ha saved a good many vords atween your mother-in-law and me, sometimes; but Im afeerd youre right, Sammy, its too much in the appleplexy line--a deal too much, Samivel. This conversation brought them to the door of the snuggery, into which Sam--pausing for an instant to look over his shoulder, and cast a sly leer

The Pickwick Papers page 308        The Pickwick Papers page 310