Laying his hand on the mulberry collar of the unresisting Job, Mr. Weller dragged him into the kitchen; and, locking the door, handed the key to Mr. Muzzle, who very coolly buttoned it up in a side pocket.
‘Well, here’s a game!’ cried Sam. ‘Only think o’ my master havin’ the pleasure o’ meeting yourn upstairs, and me havin’ the joy o’ meetin’ you down here. How are you gettin’ on, and how is the chandlery bis’ness likely to do? Well, I am so glad to see you. How happy you look. It’s quite a treat to see you; ain’t it, Mr. Muzzle?’
‘Quite,’ said Mr. Muzzle.
‘So cheerful he is!’ said Sam.
‘In such good spirits!’ said Muzzle.
‘And so glad to see us—that makes it so much more comfortable,’ said Sam. ‘Sit down; sit down.’
Mr. Trotter suffered himself to be forced into a chair by the fireside. He cast his small eyes, first on Mr. Weller, and then on Mr. Muzzle, but said nothing.
‘Well, now,’ said Sam, ‘afore these here ladies, I should jest like to ask you, as a sort of curiosity, whether you don’t consider yourself as nice and well-behaved a young gen’l’m’n, as ever used a pink check pocket-handkerchief, and the number four collection?’
‘And as was ever a-going to be married to a cook,’ said that lady indignantly. ‘The willin!’
‘And leave off his evil ways, and set up in the chandlery line arterwards,’ said the housemaid.