The Pickwick Papers


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'
'
Just mind that 'ere paper and the pot, old feller, will you?' said Sam.  
I'm a-comin'. Blessed, if they was a-callin' me to the bar, they couldn't  
make more noise about it!'  
Accompanying these words with a gentle rap on the head of the young  
gentleman before noticed, who, unconscious of his close vicinity to the  
person in request, was screaming 'Weller!' with all his might, Sam  
hastened across the ground, and ran up the steps into the hall. Here,  
the first object that met his eyes was his beloved father sitting on a  
bottom stair, with his hat in his hand, shouting out 'Weller!' in his  
very loudest tone, at half-minute intervals.  
'Wot are you a-roarin' at?' said Sam impetuously, when the old  
gentleman had discharged himself of another shout; 'making yourself  
so precious hot that you looks like a aggrawated glass- blower. Wot's  
the matter?'  
'
Aha!' replied the old gentleman, 'I began to be afeerd that you'd gone  
for a walk round the Regency Park, Sammy.'  
'
Come,' said Sam, 'none o' them taunts agin the wictim o' avarice, and  
come off that 'ere step. Wot arc you a-settin' down there for? I don't  
live there.'  
'
'
'
I've got such a game for you, Sammy,' said the elder Mr Weller, rising.  
Stop a minit,' said Sam, 'you're all vite behind.'  
That's 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, 'I'm 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 think's 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.  


Page
618 619 620 621 622

Quick Jump
1 198 396 594 792