It is not half as innocent a thing as it looks, that shaking little pieces

of carpet - at least, there may be no great harm in the shaking, but

the folding is a very insidious process. So long as the shaking lasts,

and the two parties are kept the carpet's length apart, it is as innocent

an amusement as can well be devised; but when the folding begins,

and the distance between them gets gradually lessened from one half

its former length to a quarter, and then to an eighth, and then to a

sixteenth, and then to a thirty-second, if the carpet be long enough, it

becomes dangerous. We do not know, to a nicety, how many pieces of

carpet were folded in this instance, but we can venture to state that as

many pieces as there were, so many times did Sam kiss the pretty

housemaid.

Mr Weller regaled himself with moderation at the nearest tavern until

it was nearly dusk, and then returned to the lane without the

thoroughfare. Having been admitted into the garden by Mary, and

having received from that lady sundry admonitions concerning the

safety of his limbs and neck, Sam mounted into the pear-tree, to wait

until Arabella should come into sight.

He waited so long without this anxiously-expected event occurring,

that he began to think it was not going to take place at all, when he

heard light footsteps upon the gravel, and immediately afterwards

beheld Arabella walking pensively down the garden. As soon as she

came nearly below the tree, Sam began, by way of gently indicating his

presence, to make sundry diabolical noises similar to those which

would probably be natural to a person of middle age who had been

afflicted with a combination of inflammatory sore throat, croup, and

whooping- cough, from his earliest infancy.

Upon this, the young lady cast a hurried glance towards the spot

whence the dreadful sounds proceeded; and her previous alarm being

not at all diminished when she saw a man among the branches, she

would most certainly have decamped, and alarmed the house, had not

fear fortunately deprived her of the power of moving, and caused her

to sink down on a garden seat, which happened by good luck to be

near at hand.

'She's a-goin' off,' soliloquised Sam in great perplexity. 'Wot a thing it

is, as these here young creeturs will go a-faintin' avay just ven they

oughtn't to. Here, young 'ooman, Miss Sawbones, Mrs. Vinkle, don't!'

Whether it was the magic of Mr Winkle's name, or the coolness of the

open air, or some recollection of Mr Weller's voice, that revived

Arabella, matters not. She raised her head and languidly inquired,

'Who's that, and what do you want?'

The Pickwick Papers