Here Mary laughed, and said the cook had made her; and the cook

laughed, and said she hadn't.

I ha'n't got a glass,' said Mary.

Drink with me, my dear,' said Mr Weller. 'Put your lips to this here

tumbler, and then I can kiss you by deputy.'

For shame, Mr Weller!' said Mary.

What's a shame, my dear?'

Talkin' in that way.'

Nonsense; it ain't no harm. It's natur; ain't it, cook?'

Don't ask me, imperence,' replied the cook, in a high state of delight;

and hereupon the cook and Mary laughed again, till what between the

beer, and the cold meat, and the laughter combined, the latter young

lady was brought to the verge of choking - an alarming crisis from

which she was only recovered by sundry pats on the back, and other

necessary attentions, most delicately administered by Mr Samuel

Weller. In the midst of all this jollity and conviviality, a loud ring was

heard at the garden gate, to which the young gentleman who took his

meals in the wash-house, immediately responded. Mr Weller was in

the height of his attentions to the pretty house- maid; Mr Muzzle was

busy doing the honours of the table; and the cook had just paused to

laugh, in the very act of raising a huge morsel to her lips; when the

kitchen door opened, and in walked Mr Job Trotter.

We have said in walked Mr Job Trotter, but the statement is not

distinguished by our usual scrupulous adherence to fact. The door

opened and Mr Trotter appeared. He would have walked in, and was

in the very act of doing so, indeed, when catching sight of Mr Weller,

he involuntarily shrank back a pace or two, and stood gazing on the

unexpected scene before him, perfectly motionless with amazement

and terror.

Here he is!' said Sam, rising with great glee. 'Why we were that wery

moment a-speaking o' you. How are you? Where have you been? Come

in.'

Laying his hand on the mulberry collar of the unresisting Job, Mr

Weller dragged him into the kitchen; and, locking the door, handed

the key to Mr Muzzle, who very coolly buttoned it up in a side pocket.

'Well, here's a game!' cried Sam. 'Only think o' my master havin' the

pleasure o' meeting yourn upstairs, and me havin' the joy o' meetin'

The Pickwick Papers