‘Water in the wash-hand basin’s a mask o’ ice, Sir,’ responded Sam.
‘Severe weather, Sam,’ observed Mr. Pickwick.
‘Fine time for them as is well wropped up, as the Polar bear said to himself, ven he was practising his skating,’ replied Mr. Weller.
‘I shall be down in a quarter of an hour, Sam,’ said Mr. Pickwick, untying his nightcap.
‘Wery good, sir,’ replied Sam. ‘There’s a couple o’ sawbones downstairs.’
‘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 everybody know’d as a sawbones was a surgeon.’
‘Oh, a surgeon, eh?’ said Mr. Pickwick, with a smile.