“A couple of what!” exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, sitting up in bed.
“A couple o’ Sawbones,” said Sam.
“What’s a Sawbones?” inquired Mr. Pickwick, not quite certain whether it was a live animal, or something to eat.
“What! don’t you know what a Sawbones is, Sir?” inquired Mr. Weller; “I thought every body know’d as a Sawbones was a Surgeon.”
“Oh, a Surgeon, eh?” said Mr. Pickwick with a smile.
“Just that Sir,” replied Sam. “These here ones as is below, though, ain’t reg’lar thoroughbred Sawbones; they’re only in trainin’.”
“In other words they’re Medical Students, I suppose?” said Mr. Pickwick.
Sam Weller nodded assent.
“I am glad of it,” said Mr. Pickwick, casting his nightcap energetically on the counterpane, “They are fine fellows; very fine fellows, with judgments matured by observation and reflection; and tastes refined by reading and study. I am very glad of it.”
“They’re a smokin’ cigars by the kitchen fire,” said Sam.