“Oh, you’ve woke up, at last, have you?” said Sam.
The fat boy nodded.
“I’ll tell you what it is, young boa constructer,” said Mr. Weller, impressively, “if you don’t sleep a little less, and exercise a little more, ven you comes to be a man you’ll lay yourself open to the same sort o’ personal inconwenience as was inflicted on the old gen’lm’n as wore the pig-tail.”
“What did they do to him?” inquired the fat boy, in a faltering voice.
“I’m a goin’ to tell you,” replied Mr. Weller; “he was one o’ the largest patterns as was ever turned out—reg’lar fat man, as hadn’t caught a glimpse of his own shoes for five-and-forty years.”
“Lor!” exclaimed Emma.
“No, that he hadn’t, my dear,” said Mr. Weller, “and if you’d put an exact model of his own legs on the dinin’ table afore him, he wouldn’t ha’ known ’em. Well, he always walks to his office with a wery handsome gold watch-chain hanging out, about a foot and a half; and a gold watch in his fob pocket as was worth—I’m afraid to say how much, but as much as a watch can be—a large, heavy, round manufacturer, as stout for a watch, as he was for a man, and with a big face in proportion. ‘You’d better not carry that ’ere watch,’ says the old gen’l’m’n’s friends, ‘you’ll be robbed on it,’ says they. ‘Shall I?’ says he. ‘Yes, will you,’ says they. ‘Vell,’ says he, ‘I should like to see the thief as could get this here watch out, for I’m blessed if I ever can; it’s such a tight fit,’ says he, ‘and venever I vants to know what’s o’clock, I’m obliged to stare into the bakers’ shops,’ he says. Well, then he laughs as hearty as if he was a goin’ to pieces, and out he walks agin’ with his powdered head and pig-tail, and rolls down the Strand vith the chain hangin’ out furder than ever, and the great round watch almost bustin’ through his grey kersey smalls. There warn’t a pickpocket in all London as didn’t take a pull at that chain, but the chain ’ud never break, and the watch ’ud never come out, so they soon got tired o’ dragging such a heavy old gen’l’m’n along the pavement, and he’d go home and laugh till the pig-tail wibrated like the penderlum of a Dutch clock. At last, one day the old gen’l’m’n was a rollin’ along, and he sees a pickpocket as he know’d by sight, a-comin’ up, arm in arm vith a little boy vith a wery large head. ‘Here’s a game,’ says the old gen’l’m’n to himself, ‘they’re a goin’ to have another try, but it won’t do.’ So he begins a chucklin’ wery hearty, ven, all of a sudden, the little boy leaves hold of the pickpocket’s arm, and rushes headforemost straight into the old gen’l’m’n’s stomach, and for a moment doubled him right up vith the pain. ‘Murder!’ says the old gen’l’m’n. ‘All right, Sir,’ says the pickpocket, a whisperin’ in his ear. And ven he come straight agin’, the watch and chain was gone, and what’s worse than that, the old gen’l’m’n’s digestion was all wrong ever artervards, to the wery last day of his life; so just you look about you, young feller, and take care you don’t get too fat.”
As Mr. Weller concluded this moral tale, with which the fat boy appeared much affected, they all three wended their way to the large kitchen, in which the family were by this time assembled, according to annual custom on Christmas eve, observed by old Wardle’s forefathers from time immemorial.
From the centre of the ceiling of this kitchen, old Wardle had just suspended with his own hands a huge branch of mistletoe, and this same branch of mistletoe instantaneously gave rise to a scene of general and most delightful struggling and confusion; in the midst of which Mr. Pickwick with a gallantry which would have done honour to a descendant of Lady Tollimglower herself, took the old lady by the hand, led her beneath the mystic branch, and saluted her in all courtesy and decorum. The old lady submitted to this piece of practical politeness with all the dignity which befitted so important and serious a solemnity, but the younger ladies not being so thoroughly imbued with a superstitious veneration of the custom, or imagining that the value of a salute is very much enhanced if it cost a little trouble to obtain it, screamed and struggled, and ran into corners, and threatened and remonstrated, and did every thing but leave the room, until some of the less adventurous gentlemen were on the point of desisting, when they all at once found it useless to resist any longer, and submitted to be kissed with a good grace. Mr. Winkle kissed the young lady with the black eyes, and Mr. Snodgrass kissed Emily; and Mr. Weller, not being particular about the form of being under the mistletoe, kissed Emma and the other female servants, just as he caught them. As to the poor relations, they kissed everybody, not even excepting the plainer portion of the young-lady visitors, who, in their excessive confusion, ran right under the mistletoe, directly it was hung up, without knowing it! Wardle stood with his back to the fire, surveying the whole scene, with the utmost satisfaction; and the fat boy took the opportunity of appropriating to his own use, and summarily devouring, a particularly fine mince pie, that had been carefully put by, for somebody else.
Now the screaming had subsided, and faces were in a glow and curls in a tangle, and Mr. Pickwick, after kissing the old lady as before-mentioned, was standing under the mistletoe, looking with a very pleased countenance on all that was passing around him, when the young lady with the black eyes, after a little whispering with the other young ladies, made a sudden dart forward, and, putting her arm round Mr. Pickwick’s neck, saluted him affectionately on the left cheek; and before Mr. Pickwick distinctly knew what was the matter, he was surrounded by the whole body, and kissed by every one of them.