CHAPTER XLIII. SHOWING HOW MR. SAMUEL WELLER GOT INTO DIFFICULTIES
In a lofty room, ill-lighted and worse ventilated, situated in PortugalStreet, Lincoln's Inn Fields, there sit nearly the whole year round,one, two, three, or four gentlemen in wigs, as the case may be, withlittle writing-desks before them, constructed after the fashion of thoseused by the judges of the land, barring the French polish. There is abox of barristers on their right hand; there is an enclosure ofinsolvent debtors on their left; and there is an inclined plane of mostespecially dirty faces in their front. These gentlemen are theCommissioners of the Insolvent Court, and the place in which they sit,is the Insolvent Court itself.
It is, and has been, time out of mind, the remarkable fate of this courtto be, somehow or other, held and understood, by the general consent ofall the destitute shabby-genteel people in London, as their commonresort, and place of daily refuge. It is always full. The steams of beerand spirits perpetually ascend to the ceiling, and, being condensed bythe heat, roll down the walls like rain; there are more old suits ofclothes in it at one time, than will be offered for sale in allHoundsditch in a twelvemonth; more unwashed skins and grizzly beardsthan all the pumps and shaving-shops between Tyburn and Whitechapelcould render decent, between sunrise and sunset.
It must not be supposed that any of these people have the least shadowof business in, or the remotest connection with, the place they soindefatigably attend. If they had, it would be no matter of surprise,and the singularity of the thing would cease. Some of them sleep duringthe greater part of the sitting; others carry small portable dinnerswrapped in pocket-handkerchiefs or sticking out of their worn-outpockets, and munch and listen with equal relish; but no one among themwas ever known to have the slightest personal interest in any case thatwas ever brought forward. Whatever they do, there they sit from thefirst moment to the last. When it is heavy, rainy weather, they all comein, wet through; and at such times the vapours of the court are likethose of a fungus-pit.
A casual visitor might suppose this place to be a temple dedicated tothe Genius of Seediness. There is not a messenger or process-serverattached to it, who wears a coat that was made for him; not a tolerablyfresh, or wholesome-looking man in the whole establishment, except alittle white-headed apple-faced tipstaff, and even he, like an ill-conditioned cherry preserved in brandy, seems to have artificially driedand withered up into a state of preservation to which he can lay nonatural claim. The very barristers' wigs are ill-powdered, and theircurls lack crispness.
But the attorneys, who sit at a large bare table below thecommissioners, are, after all, the greatest curiosities. Theprofessional establishment of the more opulent of these gentlemen,consists of a blue bag and a boy; generally a youth of the Jewishpersuasion. They have no fixed offices, their legal business beingtransacted in the parlours of public-houses, or the yards of prisons,whither they repair in crowds, and canvass for customers after themanner of omnibus cads. They are of a greasy and mildewed appearance;and if they can be said to have any vices at all, perhaps drinking andcheating are the most conspicuous among them. Their residences areusually on the outskirts of 'the Rules,' chiefly lying within a circleof one mile from the obelisk in St. George's Fields. Their looks are notprepossessing, and their manners are peculiar.
Mr. Solomon Pell, one of this learned body, was a fat, flabby, pale man,in a surtout which looked green one minute, and brown the next, with avelvet collar of the same chameleon tints. His forehead was narrow, hisface wide, his head large, and his nose all on one side, as if Nature,indignant with the propensities she observed in him in his birth, hadgiven it an angry tweak which it had never recovered. Being short-neckedand asthmatic, however, he respired principally through this feature;so, perhaps, what it wanted in ornament, it made up in usefulness.
'I'm sure to bring him through it,' said Mr. Pell.
'Are you, though?' replied the person to whom the assurance was pledged.
'Certain sure,' replied Pell; 'but if he'd gone to any irregularpractitioner, mind you, I wouldn't have answered for the consequences.'
'Ah!' said the other, with open mouth.
'No, that I wouldn't,' said Mr. Pell; and he pursed up his lips,frowned, and shook his head mysteriously.
Now, the place where this discourse occurred was the public-house justopposite to the Insolvent Court; and the person with whom it was heldwas no other than the elder Mr. Weller, who had come there, to comfortand console a friend, whose petition to be discharged under the act, wasto be that day heard, and whose attorney he was at that momentconsulting.
'And vere is George?' inquired the old gentleman.
Mr. Pell jerked his head in the direction of a back parlour, whither Mr.Weller at once repairing, was immediately greeted in the warmest andmost flattering manner by some half-dozen of his professional brethren,in token of their gratification at his arrival. The insolvent gentleman,who had contracted a speculative but imprudent passion for horsing longstages, which had led to his present embarrassments, looked extremelywell, and was soothing the excitement of his feelings with shrimps andporter.
The salutation between Mr. Weller and his friends was strictly confinedto the freemasonry of the craft; consisting of a jerking round of theright wrist, and a tossing of the little finger into the air at the sametime. We once knew two famous coachmen (they are dead now, poor fellows)who were twins, and between whom an unaffected and devoted attachmentexisted. They passed each other on the Dover road, every day, fortwenty-four years, never exchanging any other greeting than this; andyet, when one died, the other pined away, and soon afterwards followedhim!
'Vell, George,' said Mr. Weller senior, taking off his upper coat, andseating himself with his accustomed gravity. 'How is it? All rightbehind, and full inside?'
'All right, old feller,' replied the embarrassed gentleman.
'Is the gray mare made over to anybody?' inquired Mr. Weller anxiously.
George nodded in the affirmative.
'Vell, that's all right,' said Mr. Weller. 'Coach taken care on, also?'
'Con-signed in a safe quarter,' replied George, wringing the heads offhalf a dozen shrimps, and swallowing them without any more ado.
'Wery good, wery good,' said Mr. Weller. 'Alvays see to the drag ven yougo downhill. Is the vay-bill all clear and straight for'erd?'
'The schedule, sir,' said Pell, guessing at Mr. Weller's meaning, 'theschedule is as plain and satisfactory as pen and ink can make it.'
Mr. Weller nodded in a manner which bespoke his inward approval of thesearrangements; and then, turning to Mr. Pell, said, pointing to hisfriend George--
'Ven do you take his cloths off?'
'Why,' replied Mr. Pell, 'he stands third on the opposed list, and Ishould think it would be his turn in about half an hour. I told my clerkto come over and tell us when there was a chance.'
Mr. Weller surveyed the attorney from head to foot with greatadmiration, and said emphatically--
'And what'll you take, sir?'
'Why, really,' replied Mr. Pell, 'you're very--. Upon my word andhonour, I'm not in the habit of--. It's so very early in the morning,that, actually, I am almost--. Well, you may bring me threepenn'orth ofrum, my dear.'
The officiating damsel, who had anticipated the order before it wasgiven, set the glass of spirits before Pell, and retired.
'Gentlemen,' said Mr. Pell, looking round upon the company, 'success toyour friend! I don't like to boast, gentlemen; it's not my way; but Ican't help saying, that, if your friend hadn't been fortunate enough tofall into hands that--But I won't say what I was going to say.Gentlemen, my service to you.' Having emptied the glass in a twinkling,Mr. Pell smacked his lips, and looked complacently round on theassembled coachmen, who evidently regarded him as a species of divinity.
'Let me see,' said the legal authority. 'What was I a-saying,gentlemen?'
'I think you was remarkin' as you wouldn't have no objection to anothero' the same, Sir,' said Mr. Weller, with grave facetiousness.
br /> 'Ha, ha!' laughed Mr. Pell. 'Not bad, not bad. A professional man, too!At this time of the morning, it would be rather too good a--Well, Idon't know, my dear--you may do that again, if you please. Hem!'
This last sound was a solemn and dignified cough, in which Mr. Pell,observing an indecent tendency to mirth in some of his auditors,considered it due to himself to indulge.
'The late Lord Chancellor, gentlemen, was very fond of me,' said Mr.Pell.
'And wery creditable in him, too,' interposed Mr. Weller.
'Hear, hear,' assented Mr. Pell's client. 'Why shouldn't he be?
'Ah! Why, indeed!' said a very red-faced man, who had said nothing yet,and who looked extremely unlikely to say anything more. 'Why shouldn'the?'
A murmur of assent ran through the company.
'I remember, gentlemen,' said Mr. Pell, 'dining with him on oneoccasion; there was only us two, but everything as splendid as if twentypeople had been expected--the great seal on a dumb-waiter at his righthand, and a man in a bag-wig and suit of armour guarding the mace with adrawn sword and silk stockings--which is perpetually done, gentlemen,night and day; when he said, "Pell," he said, "no false delicacy, Pell.You're a man of talent; you can get anybody through the Insolvent Court,Pell; and your country should be proud of you." Those were his verywords. "My Lord," I said, "you flatter me."--"Pell," he said, "if I do,I'm damned."'
'Did he say that?' inquired Mr. Weller.
'He did,' replied Pell.
'Vell, then,' said Mr. Weller, 'I say Parliament ought to ha' took itup; and if he'd been a poor man, they would ha' done it.'
'But, my dear friend,' argued Mr. Pell, 'it was in confidence.'
'In what?' said Mr. Weller.
'In confidence.'
'Oh! wery good,' replied Mr. Weller, after a little reflection. 'If hedamned hisself in confidence, o' course that was another thing.'
'Of course it was,' said Mr. Pell. 'The distinction's obvious, you willperceive.'
'Alters the case entirely,' said Mr. Weller. 'Go on, Sir.'
No, I will not go on, Sir,' said Mr. Pell, in a low and serious tone.'You have reminded me, Sir, that this conversation was private--privateand confidential, gentlemen. Gentlemen, I am a professional man. It maybe that I am a good deal looked up to, in my profession--it may be thatI am not. Most people know. I say nothing. Observations have alreadybeen made, in this room, injurious to the reputation of my noble friend.You will excuse me, gentlemen; I was imprudent. I feel that I have noright to mention this matter without his concurrence. Thank you, Sir;thank you.' Thus delivering himself, Mr. Pell thrust his hands into hispockets, and, frowning grimly around, rattled three halfpence withterrible determination.
This virtuous resolution had scarcely been formed, when the boy and theblue bag, who were inseparable companions, rushed violently into theroom, and said (at least the boy did, for the blue bag took no part inthe announcement) that the case was coming on directly. The intelligencewas no sooner received than the whole party hurried across the street,and began to fight their way into court--a preparatory ceremony, whichhas been calculated to occupy, in ordinary cases, from twenty-fiveminutes to thirty.
Mr. Weller, being stout, cast himself at once into the crowd, with thedesperate hope of ultimately turning up in some place which would suithim. His success was not quite equal to his expectations; for havingneglected to take his hat off, it was knocked over his eyes by someunseen person, upon whose toes he had alighted with considerable force.Apparently this individual regretted his impetuosity immediatelyafterwards, for, muttering an indistinct exclamation of surprise, hedragged the old man out into the hall, and, after a violent struggle,released his head and face.
'Samivel!' exclaimed Mr. Weller, when he was thus enabled to behold hisrescuer.
Sam nodded.
'You're a dutiful and affectionate little boy, you are, ain't you,' saidMr. Weller, 'to come a-bonnetin' your father in his old age?'
'How should I know who you wos?' responded the son. 'Do you s'pose I wosto tell you by the weight o' your foot?'
'Vell, that's wery true, Sammy,' replied Mr. Weller, mollified at once;'but wot are you a-doin' on here? Your gov'nor can't do no good here,Sammy. They won't pass that werdick, they won't pass it, Sammy.' And Mr.Weller shook his head with legal solemnity.
'Wot a perwerse old file it is!' exclaimed Sam, 'always a-goin' on aboutwerdicks and alleybis and that. Who said anything about the werdick?'
Mr. Weller made no reply, but once more shook his head most learnedly.
'Leave off rattlin' that 'ere nob o' yourn, if you don't want it to comeoff the springs altogether,' said Sam impatiently, 'and behavereasonable. I vent all the vay down to the Markis o' Granby, arter you,last night.'
'Did you see the Marchioness o' Granby, Sammy?' inquired Mr. Weller,with a sigh.
'Yes, I did,' replied Sam.
'How wos the dear creetur a-lookin'?'
'Wery queer,' said Sam. 'I think she's a-injurin' herself gradivallyvith too much o' that 'ere pine-apple rum, and other strong medicines ofthe same natur.'
'You don't mean that, Sammy?' said the senior earnestly.
'I do, indeed,' replied the junior.
Mr. Weller seized his son's hand, clasped it, and let it fall. There wasan expression on his countenance in doing so--not of dismay orapprehension, but partaking more of the sweet and gentle character ofhope. A gleam of resignation, and even of cheerfulness, passed over hisface too, as he slowly said, 'I ain't quite certain, Sammy; I wouldn'tlike to say I wos altogether positive, in case of any subsekentdisappointment, but I rayther think, my boy, I rayther think, that theshepherd's got the liver complaint!'
'Does he look bad?' inquired Sam.
'He's uncommon pale,' replied his father, ''cept about the nose, whichis redder than ever. His appetite is wery so-so, but he imbibeswonderful.'
Some thoughts of the rum appeared to obtrude themselves on Mr. Weller'smind, as he said this; for he looked gloomy and thoughtful; but he veryshortly recovered, as was testified by a perfect alphabet of winks, inwhich he was only wont to indulge when particularly pleased.
'Vell, now,' said Sam, 'about my affair. Just open them ears o' yourn,and don't say nothin' till I've done.' With this preface, Sam related,as succinctly as he could, the last memorable conversation he had hadwith Mr. Pickwick.
'Stop there by himself, poor creetur!' exclaimed the elder Mr. Weller,'without nobody to take his part! It can't be done, Samivel, it can't bedone.'
'O' course it can't,' asserted Sam: 'I know'd that, afore I came.'
Why, they'll eat him up alive, Sammy,' exclaimed Mr. Weller.
Sam nodded his concurrence in the opinion.
'He goes in rayther raw, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller metaphorically, 'andhe'll come out, done so ex-ceedin' brown, that his most formiliarfriends won't know him. Roast pigeon's nothin' to it, Sammy.'
Again Sam Weller nodded.
'It oughtn't to be, Samivel,' said Mr. Weller gravely.
'It mustn't be,' said Sam.
'Cert'nly not,' said Mr. Weller.
'Vell now,' said Sam, 'you've been a-prophecyin' away, wery fine, like ared-faced Nixon, as the sixpenny books gives picters on.'
'Who wos he, Sammy?' inquired Mr. Weller.
'Never mind who he was,' retorted Sam; 'he warn't a coachman; that'senough for you.'
I know'd a ostler o' that name,' said Mr. Weller, musing.
'It warn't him,' said Sam. 'This here gen'l'm'n was a prophet.'
'Wot's a prophet?' inquired Mr. Weller, looking sternly on his son.
'Wy, a man as tells what's a-goin' to happen,' replied Sam.
'I wish I'd know'd him, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller. 'P'raps he might ha'throw'd a small light on that 'ere liver complaint as we wos a-speakin'on, just now. Hows'ever, if he's dead, and ain't left the bisness tonobody, there's an end on it. Go on, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, with asigh.
'Well,' said Sam, 'you've been a-prophecyin' avay about wot'll happen tothe gov'n
er if he's left alone. Don't you see any way o' takin' care onhim?'
'No, I don't, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, with a reflective visage.
'No vay at all?' inquired Sam.
'No vay,' said Mr. Weller, 'unless'--and a gleam of intelligence lightedup his countenance as he sank his voice to a whisper, and applied hismouth to the ear of his offspring--'unless it is getting him out in aturn-up bedstead, unbeknown to the turnkeys, Sammy, or dressin' him uplike a old 'ooman vith a green wail.'
Sam Weller received both of these suggestions with unexpected contempt,and again propounded his question.
'No,' said the old gentleman; 'if he von't let you stop there, I see novay at all. It's no thoroughfare, Sammy, no thoroughfare.'
'Well, then, I'll tell you wot it is,' said Sam, 'I'll trouble you forthe loan of five-and-twenty pound.'
'Wot good'll that do?' inquired Mr. Weller.
'Never mind,' replied Sam. 'P'raps you may ask for it five minitsarterwards; p'raps I may say I von't pay, and cut up rough. You von'tthink o' arrestin' your own son for the money, and sendin' him off tothe Fleet, will you, you unnat'ral wagabone?'
At this reply of Sam's, the father and son exchanged a complete code oftelegraph nods and gestures, after which, the elder Mr. Weller sathimself down on a stone step and laughed till he was purple.
'Wot a old image it is!' exclaimed Sam, indignant at this loss of time.'What are you a-settin' down there for, con-wertin' your face into astreet-door knocker, wen there's so much to be done. Where's the money?'
'In the boot, Sammy, in the boot,' replied Mr. Weller, composing hisfeatures. 'Hold my hat, Sammy.'
Having divested himself of this encumbrance, Mr. Weller gave his body asudden wrench to one side, and by a dexterous twist, contrived to gethis right hand into a most capacious pocket, from whence, after a greatdeal of panting and exertion, he extricated a pocket-book of the largeoctavo size, fastened by a huge leathern strap. From this ledger he drewforth a couple of whiplashes, three or four buckles, a little sample-bagof corn, and, finally, a small roll of very dirty bank-notes, from whichhe selected the required amount, which he handed over to Sam.
'And now, Sammy,' said the old gentleman, when the whip-lashes, and thebuckles, and the samples, had been all put back, and the book once moredeposited at the bottom of the same pocket, 'now, Sammy, I know agen'l'm'n here, as'll do the rest o' the bisness for us, in no time--alimb o' the law, Sammy, as has got brains like the frogs, dispersed allover his body, and reachin' to the wery tips of his fingers; a friend ofthe Lord Chancellorship's, Sammy, who'd only have to tell him what hewanted, and he'd lock you up for life, if that wos all.'
'I say,' said Sam, 'none o' that.'
'None o' wot?' inquired Mr. Weller.
'Wy, none o' them unconstitootional ways o' doin' it,' retorted Sam.'The have-his-carcass, next to the perpetual motion, is vun of theblessedest things as wos ever made. I've read that 'ere in thenewspapers wery of'en.'
'Well, wot's that got to do vith it?' inquired Mr. Weller.
'Just this here,' said Sam, 'that I'll patronise the inwention, and goin, that vay. No visperin's to the Chancellorship--I don't like thenotion. It mayn't be altogether safe, vith reference to gettin' outagin.'
Deferring to his son's feeling upon this point, Mr. Weller at oncesought the erudite Solomon Pell, and acquainted him with his desire toissue a writ, instantly, for the _sum _of twenty-five pounds, and costsof process; to be executed without delay upon the body of one SamuelWeller; the charges thereby incurred, to be paid in advance to SolomonPell.
The attorney was in high glee, for the embarrassed coach-horser wasordered to be discharged forthwith. He highly approved of Sam'sattachment to his master; declared that it strongly reminded him of hisown feelings of devotion to his friend, the Chancellor; and at once ledthe elder Mr. Weller down to the Temple, to swear the affidavit of debt,which the boy, with the assistance of the blue bag, had drawn up on thespot.
Meanwhile, Sam, having been formally introduced to the whitewashedgentleman and his friends, as the offspring of Mr. Weller, of the BelleSavage, was treated with marked distinction, and invited to regalehimself with them in honour of the occasion--an invitation which he wasby no means backward in accepting.
The mirth of gentlemen of this class is of a grave and quiet character,usually; but the present instance was one of peculiar festivity, andthey relaxed in proportion. After some rather tumultuous toasting of theChief Commissioner and Mr. Solomon Pell, who had that day displayed suchtranscendent abilities, a mottled-faced gentleman in a blue shawlproposed that somebody should sing a song. The obvious suggestion was,that the mottled-faced gentleman, being anxious for a song, should singit himself; but this the mottled-faced gentleman sturdily, and somewhatoffensively, declined to do. Upon which, as is not unusual in suchcases, a rather angry colloquy ensued.
'Gentlemen,' said the coach-horser, 'rather than disturb the harmony ofthis delightful occasion, perhaps Mr. Samuel Weller will oblige thecompany.'
'Raly, gentlemen,' said Sam, 'I'm not wery much in the habit o' singin'without the instrument; but anythin' for a quiet life, as the man saidwen he took the sitivation at the lighthouse.'
With this prelude, Mr. Samuel Weller burst at once into the followingwild and beautiful legend, which, under the impression that it is notgenerally known, we take the liberty of quoting. We would beg to callparticular attention to the monosyllable at the end of the second andfourth lines, which not only enables the singer to take breath at thosepoints, but greatly assists the metre.
ROMANCE
I
Bold Turpin vunce, on Hounslow Heath, His bold mare Bess bestrode--er;Ven there he see'd the Bishop's coach A-coming along the road--er. So hegallops close to the 'orse's legs, And he claps his head vithin; And theBishop says, 'Sure as eggs is eggs, This here's the bold Turpin!'
CHORUS
And the Bishop says, 'Sure as eggs is eggs, This here's the boldTurpin!'
II
Says Turpin, 'You shall eat your words, With a sarse of leaden bul--let;' So he puts a pistol to his mouth, And he fires it down his gul--let. The coachman he not likin' the job, Set off at full gal-lop, ButDick put a couple of balls in his nob, And perwailed on him to stop.
CHORUS (sarcastically)
But Dick put a couple of balls in his nob, And perwailed on him to stop.
'I maintain that that 'ere song's personal to the cloth,' said themottled-faced gentleman, interrupting it at this point. 'I demand thename o' that coachman.'
'Nobody know'd,' replied Sam. 'He hadn't got his card in his pocket.'
'I object to the introduction o' politics,' said the mottled-facedgentleman. 'I submit that, in the present company, that 'ere song'spolitical; and, wot's much the same, that it ain't true. I say that thatcoachman did not run away; but that he died game--game as pheasants; andI won't hear nothin' said to the contrairey.'
As the mottled-faced gentleman spoke with great energy anddetermination, and as the opinions of the company seemed divided on thesubject, it threatened to give rise to fresh altercation, when Mr.Weller and Mr. Pell most opportunely arrived.
'All right, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller.
'The officer will be here at four o'clock,' said Mr. Pell. 'I supposeyou won't run away meanwhile, eh? Ha! ha!'
'P'raps my cruel pa 'ull relent afore then,' replied Sam, with a broadgrin.
'Not I,' said the elder Mr. Weller.
'Do,' said Sam.
'Not on no account,' replied the inexorable creditor.
'I'll give bills for the amount, at sixpence a month,' said Sam.
'I won't take 'em,' said Mr. Weller.
'Ha, ha, ha! very good, very good,' said Mr. Solomon Pell, who wasmaking out his little bill of costs; 'a very amusing incident indeed!Benjamin, copy that.' And Mr. Pell smiled again, as he called Mr.Weller's attention to the amount.
'Thank you, thank you,' said the professional gentleman, taking upanother of the greasy notes as Mr. Weller took it from t
he pocket-book.'Three ten and one ten is five. Much obliged to you, Mr. Weller. Yourson is a most deserving young man, very much so indeed, Sir. It's a verypleasant trait in a young man's character, very much so,' added Mr.Pell, smiling smoothly round, as he buttoned up the money.
'Wot a game it is!' said the elder Mr. Weller, with a chuckle. 'Areg'lar prodigy son!'
'Prodigal--prodigal son, Sir,' suggested Mr. Pell, mildly.
'Never mind, Sir,' said Mr. Weller, with dignity. 'I know wot's o'clock,Sir. Wen I don't, I'll ask you, Sir.'
By the time the officer arrived, Sam had made himself so extremelypopular, that the congregated gentlemen determined to see him to prisonin a body. So off they set; the plaintiff and defendant walking arm inarm, the officer in front, and eight stout coachmen bringing up therear. At Serjeant's Inn Coffee-house the whole party halted to refresh,and, the legal arrangements being completed, the procession moved onagain.
Some little commotion was occasioned in Fleet Street, by the pleasantryof the eight gentlemen in the flank, who persevered in walking fourabreast; it was also found necessary to leave the mottled-facedgentleman behind, to fight a ticket-porter, it being arranged that hisfriends should call for him as they came back. Nothing but these littleincidents occurred on the way. When they reached the gate of the Fleet,the cavalcade, taking the time from the plaintiff, gave three tremendouscheers for the defendant, and, after having shaken hands all round, lefthim.
Sam, having been formally delivered into the warder's custody, to theintense astonishment of Roker, and to the evident emotion of even thephlegmatic Neddy, passed at once into the prison, walked straight to hismaster's room, and knocked at the door.
'Come in,' said Mr. Pickwick.
Sam appeared, pulled off his hat, and smiled.
'Ah, Sam, my good lad!' said Mr. Pickwick, evidently delighted to seehis humble friend again; 'I had no intention of hurting your feelingsyesterday, my faithful fellow, by what I said. Put down your hat, Sam,and let me explain my meaning, a little more at length.'
'Won't presently do, sir?' inquired Sam.
'Certainly,' said Mr. Pickwick; 'but why not now?'
'I'd rayther not now, sir,' rejoined Sam.
'Why?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.
''Cause--' said Sam, hesitating.
'Because of what?' inquired Mr. Pickwick, alarmed at his follower'smanner. 'Speak out, Sam.'
''Cause,' rejoined Sam--''cause I've got a little bisness as I want todo.'
'What business?' inquired Mr. Pickwick, surprised at Sam's confusedmanner.
'Nothin' partickler, Sir,' replied Sam.
'Oh, if it's nothing particular,' said Mr. Pickwick, with a smile, 'youcan speak with me first.'
'I think I'd better see arter it at once,' said Sam, still hesitating.
Mr. Pickwick looked amazed, but said nothing.
'The fact is--' said Sam, stopping short.
'Well!' said Mr. Pickwick. 'Speak out, Sam.'
'Why, the fact is,' said Sam, with a desperate effort, 'perhaps I'dbetter see arter my bed afore I do anythin' else.'
'_Your bed!_' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, in astonishment.
'Yes, my bed, Sir,' replied Sam, 'I'm a prisoner. I was arrested thishere wery arternoon for debt.'
'You arrested for debt!' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, sinking into a chair.
'Yes, for debt, Sir,' replied Sam. 'And the man as puts me in, 'ullnever let me out till you go yourself.'
'Bless my heart and soul!' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick. 'What do you mean?'
'Wot I say, Sir,' rejoined Sam. 'If it's forty years to come, I shall bea prisoner, and I'm very glad on it; and if it had been Newgate, itwould ha' been just the same. Now the murder's out, and, damme, there'san end on it!'
With these words, which he repeated with great emphasis and violence,Sam Weller dashed his hat upon the ground, in a most unusual state ofexcitement; and then, folding his arms, looked firmly and fixedly in hismaster's face.