‘Nothing’s the matter, Sir,’ replied the boy, expanding his mouth to the whole breadth of his countenance.
‘All right, all right!’ cried Bob Sawyer, suddenly appearing at the door, with a small leathern knapsack, limp and dirty, in one hand, and a rough coat and shawl thrown over the other arm. ‘I’m going, old fellow.’
‘You!’ exclaimed Mr. Pickwick.
‘Yes,’ replied Bob Sawyer, ‘and a regular expedition we’ll make of it. Here, Sam! Look out!’ Thus briefly bespeaking Mr. Weller’s attention, Mr. Bob Sawyer jerked the leathern knapsack into the dickey, where it was immediately stowed away, under the seat, by Sam, who regarded the proceeding with great admiration. This done, Mr. Bob Sawyer, with the assistance of the boy, forcibly worked himself into the rough coat, which was a few sizes too small for him, and then advancing to the coach window, thrust in his head, and laughed boisterously.
‘What a start it is, isn’t it?’ cried Bob, wiping the tears out of his eyes, with one of the cuffs of the rough coat.
‘My dear Sir,’ said Mr. Pickwick, with some embarrassment, ‘I had no idea of your accompanying us.’
‘No, that’s just the very thing,’ replied Bob, seizing Mr. Pickwick by the lappel of his coat. ‘That’s the joke.’
‘Oh, that’s the joke, is it?’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘Of course,’ replied Bob. ‘It’s the whole point of the thing, you know—that, and leaving the business to take care of itself, as it seems to have made up its mind not to take care of me.’ With this explanation of the phenomenon of the shutters, Mr. Bob Sawyer pointed to the shop, and relapsed into an ecstasy of mirth.
‘Bless me, you are surely not mad enough to think of leaving your patients without anybody to attend them!’ remonstrated Mr. Pickwick in a very serious tone.