Well!' said Mr Pickwick. 'Speak out, Sam.'

Why, the fact is,' said Sam, with a desperate effort, 'perhaps I'd better

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 this

here 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, 'ull never

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 be a

prisoner, and I'm very glad on it; and if it had been Newgate, it would

ha' been just the same. Now the murder's out, and, damme, there's an

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 of excitement; and then, folding his arms, looked firmly

and fixedly in his master's face.

The Pickwick Papers