‘No, but is there anythin’ as agitates it?’ pursued the old gentleman. ‘Has it always been obderrate, always opposed to the happiness o’ human creeturs? Eh? Has it?’
At this critical juncture for her blushes and confusion, the housekeeper discovered that more ale was wanted, and hastily withdrew into the cellar to draw the same, followed by the barber, who insisted on carrying the candle. Having looked after her with a very complacent expression of face, and after him with some disdain, Mr. Weller caused his glance to travel slowly round the kitchen, until at length it rested on his son.
‘Sammy,’ said Mr. Weller, ‘I mistrust that barber.’
‘Wot for?’ returned Sam; ‘wot’s he got to do with you? You’re a nice man, you are, arter pretendin’ all kinds o’ terror, to go a payin’ compliments and talkin’ about hearts and piercers.’
The imputation of gallantry appeared to afford Mr. Weller the utmost delight, for he replied in a voice choked by suppressed laughter, and with the tears in his eyes,
‘Wos I a talkin’ about hearts and piercers,—wos I though, Sammy, eh?’
‘Wos you? of course you wos.’
‘She don’t know no better, Sammy, there ain’t no harm in it,—no danger, Sammy; she’s only a punster. She seemed pleased, though, didn’t she? O’ course, she wos pleased, it’s nat’ral she should be, wery nat’ral.’
‘He’s wain of it!’ exclaimed Sam, joining in his father’s mirth. ‘He’s actually wain!’
‘Hush!’ replied Mr. Weller, composing his features, ‘they’re a comin’ back,—the little heart’s a comin’ back. But mark these wurds o’ mine once more, and remember ’em ven your father says he said ’em. Samivel, I mistrust that ’ere deceitful barber.’ [300]