‘Wery good, Samivel, wery good,’ said Mr. Weller, nodding his head with a satisfied air, ‘I didn’t mean to speak harsh to you, Sammy. Wery good. That’s the vay to begin. Come to the pint at once. Wery good indeed, Samivel.’
Mr. Weller nodded his head an extraordinary number of times, in the excess of his gratification, and waited in a listening attitude for Sam to resume his statement.
‘You may sit down, Sam,’ said Mr. Pickwick, apprehending that the interview was likely to prove rather longer than he had expected.
Sam bowed again and sat down; his father looking round, he continued—
‘The gov’nor, sir, has drawn out five hundred and thirty pound.’
‘Reduced counsels,’ interposed Mr. Weller, senior, in an undertone.
‘It don’t much matter vether it’s reduced counsels, or wot not,’ said Sam; ‘five hundred and thirty pounds is the sum, ain’t it?’
‘All right, Samivel,’ replied Mr. Weller.
‘To vich sum, he has added for the house and bisness—’
‘Lease, good-vill, stock, and fixters,’ interposed Mr. Weller.