‘Vell, Sammy,’ said the father.
‘Vell, my Prooshan Blue,’ responded the son, laying down his pen. ‘What’s the last bulletin about mother-in-law?’
‘Mrs. Veller passed a very good night, but is uncommon perwerse, and unpleasant this mornin’. Signed upon oath, Tony Veller, Esquire. That’s the last vun as was issued, Sammy,’ replied Mr. Weller, untying his shawl.
‘No better yet?’ inquired Sam.
‘All the symptoms aggerawated,’ replied Mr. Weller, shaking his head. ‘But wot’s that, you’re a-doin’ of? Pursuit of knowledge under difficulties, Sammy?’
‘I’ve done now,’ said Sam, with slight embarrassment; ‘I’ve been a-writin’.’
‘So I see,’ replied Mr. Weller. ‘Not to any young ‘ooman, I hope, Sammy?’
‘Why, it’s no use a-sayin’ it ain’t,’ replied Sam; ‘it’s a walentine.’
‘A what!’ exclaimed Mr. Weller, apparently horror-stricken by the word.
‘A walentine,’ replied Sam.