Charles Dickens : The Complete Novels (Best Navigation, Active TOC) (A to Z Classics). A to Z Classics
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.
Mr. Weller shook his head, and his red cheeks expanded with the laughter that was endeavouring to find a vent.
‘Mottled–faced man, p’raps?’ asked Sam.
Again Mr. Weller shook his head.
‘Who then?‘asked Sam.
‘Your mother–in–law,’ said Mr. Weller; and it was lucky he did say it, or his cheeks must inevitably have cracked, from their most unnatural distension.
‘Your mother—in—law, Sammy,’ said Mr. Weller, ‘and the red–nosed man, my boy; and the red–nosed man. Ho! ho! ho!’
With this, Mr. Weller launched into convulsions of laughter, while Sam regarded him with a broad grin gradually over–spreading his whole countenance.
‘They’ve come to have a little serious talk with you, Samivel,’ said Mr. Weller, wiping his eyes. ‘Don’t let out nothin’ about the unnat’ral creditor, Sammy.’
‘Wot, don’t they know who it is?’ inquired Sam.
‘Not a bit on it,’ replied his father.
‘Vere are they?’ said Sam, reciprocating all the old gentleman’s grins.
‘In the snuggery,’ rejoined Mr. Weller. ‘Catch the red–nosed man a–goin’ anyvere but vere the liquors is; not he, Samivel, not he. Ve’d a wery pleasant ride along the road from the Markis this mornin’, Sammy,’ said Mr. Weller, when he felt himself equal to the task of speaking in an articulate manner. ‘I drove the old piebald in that ‘ere little shay–cart as belonged to your mother–in–law’s first wenter, into vich a harm–cheer wos lifted for the shepherd; and I’m blessed,’ said Mr. Weller, with a look of deep scorn—‘I’m blessed if they didn’t bring a portable flight o’ steps out into the road a–front o’ our door for him, to get up by.’
‘You don’t mean that?’ said Sam.
‘I do mean that, Sammy,’ replied his father, ‘and I vish you could ha’ seen how tight he held on by the sides wen he did get up, as if he wos afeerd o’ being precipitayted down full six foot, and dashed into a million hatoms. He tumbled in at last, however, and avay ve vent; and I rayther think—I say I rayther think, Samivel—that he found his–self a little jolted ven ve turned the corners.’
‘Wot, I s’pose you happened to drive up agin a post or two?’ said Sam. ‘I’m afeerd,’ replied Mr. Weller, in a rapture of winks—‘I’m afeerd I took vun or two on ’em, Sammy; he wos a–flyin’ out o’ the arm–cheer all the way.’
Here the old gentleman shook his head from side to side, and was seized with a hoarse internal rumbling, accompanied with a violent swelling of the countenance, and a sudden increase in the breadth of all his features; symptoms which alarmed his son not a little.
‘Don’t be frightened, Sammy, don’t be frightened,’ said the old gentleman, when by dint of much struggling, and various convulsive stamps upon the ground, he had recovered his voice. ‘It’s only a kind o’ quiet laugh as I’m a–tryin’ to come, Sammy.’
‘Well, if that’s wot it is,’ said Sam, ‘you’d better not try to come it agin. You’ll find it rayther a dangerous inwention.’
‘Don’t you like it, Sammy?’ inquired the old gentleman.
‘Not at all,’ replied Sam.
‘Well,’ said Mr. Weller, with the tears still running down his cheeks, ‘it ’ud ha’ been a wery great accommodation to me if I could ha’ done it, and ’ud ha’ saved a good many vords atween your mother–in–law and me, sometimes; but I’m afeerd you’re right, Sammy, it’s too much in the appleplexy line—a deal too much, Samivel.’
This conversation brought them to the door of the snuggery, into which Sam—pausing for an instant to look over his shoulder, and cast a sly leer at his respected progenitor, who was still giggling behind—at once led the way.
‘Mother–in–law,’ said Sam, politely saluting the lady, ‘wery much obliged to you for this here wisit.—Shepherd, how air you?’
‘Oh, Samuel!’ said Mrs. Weller. ‘This is dreadful.’
‘Not a bit on it, mum,’ replied Sam.—‘Is it, shepherd?’
Mr. Stiggins raised his hands, and turned up his eyes, until the whites—or rather the yellows—were alone visible; but made no reply in words.
‘Is this here gen’l’m’n troubled with any painful complaint?’ said Sam, looking to his mother–in–law for explanation.
‘The good man is grieved to see you here, Samuel,’ replied Mrs. Weller.
‘Oh, that’s it, is it?’ said Sam. ‘I was afeerd, from his manner, that he might ha’ forgotten to take pepper vith that ‘ere last cowcumber he eat. Set down, Sir, ve make no extra charge for settin’ down, as the king remarked wen he blowed up his ministers.’
‘Young man,’ said Mr. Stiggins ostentatiously, ‘I fear you are not softened by imprisonment.’
‘Beg your pardon, Sir,’ replied Sam; ‘wot wos you graciously pleased to hobserve?’
‘I apprehend, young man, that your nature is no softer for this chastening,’ said Mr. Stiggins, in a loud voice.
‘Sir,’ replied Sam, ‘you’re wery kind to say so. I hope my natur is not a soft vun, Sir. Wery much obliged to you for your good opinion, Sir.’
At this point of the conversation, a sound, indecorously approaching to a laugh, was heard to proceed from the chair in which the elder Mr. Weller was seated; upon which Mrs. Weller, on a hasty consideration of all the circumstances of the case, considered it her bounden duty to become gradually hysterical.
‘Weller,’ said Mrs. W. (the old gentleman was seated in a corner); ‘Weller! Come forth.’
‘Wery much obleeged to you, my dear,’ replied Mr. Weller; ‘but I’m quite comfortable vere I am.’
Upon this, Mrs. Weller burst into tears.
‘Wot’s gone wrong, mum?’ said Sam.
‘Oh, Samuel!’ replied Mrs. Weller, ‘your father makes me wretched. Will nothing do him good?’
‘Do you hear this here?’ said Sam. ‘Lady vants to know vether nothin’ ’ull do you good.’
‘Wery much indebted to Mrs. Weller for her po–lite inquiries, Sammy,’ replied the old gentleman. ‘I think a pipe vould benefit me a good deal. Could I be accommodated, Sammy?’
Here Mrs. Weller let fall some more tears, and Mr. Stiggins groaned.
‘Hollo! Here’s this unfortunate gen’l’m’n took ill agin,’ said Sam, looking round. ‘Vere do you feel it now, sir?’
‘In the same place, young man,’ rejoined Mr. Stiggins, ‘in the same place.’
‘Vere may that be, Sir?’ inquired Sam, with great outward simplicity.
‘In the buzzim, young man,’ replied Mr. Stiggins, placing his umbrella on his waistcoat.
At this affecting reply, Mrs. Weller, being wholly