‘In the same place, young man,’ rejoined Mr. Stiggins, ‘in the same place.’
‘Vere may that be, Sir?’ inquired Sam, with great outward simplicity.
‘In the buzzim, young man,’ replied Mr. Stiggins, placing his umbrella on his waistcoat.
At this affecting reply, Mrs. Weller, being wholly unable to suppress her feelings, sobbed aloud, and stated her conviction that the red-nosed man was a saint; whereupon Mr. Weller, senior, ventured to suggest, in an undertone, that he must be the representative of the united parishes of St. Simon Without and St. Walker Within.
‘I’m afeered, mum,’ said Sam, ‘that this here gen’l’m’n, with the twist in his countenance, feels rather thirsty, with the melancholy spectacle afore him. Is it the case, mum?’
The worthy lady looked at Mr. Stiggins for a reply; that gentleman, with many rollings of the eye, clenched his throat with his right hand, and mimicked the act of swallowing, to intimate that he was athirst.
‘I am afraid, Samuel, that his feelings have made him so indeed,’ said Mrs. Weller mournfully.
‘Wot’s your usual tap, sir?’ replied Sam.
‘Oh, my dear young friend,’ replied Mr. Stiggins, ‘all taps is vanities!’
‘Too true, too true, indeed,’ said Mrs. Weller, murmuring a groan, and shaking her head assentingly.