“That’s the pint, sir,” interposed Sam; “out vith it, as the father said to the child, ven he swallowed a farden.”
“We want to know, in the first place,” said Mr. Pickwick, “whether you have any reason to be discontented with your present situation.”
“Afore I answers that ’ere question, gen’lm’n,” replied Mr. Weller, “I should like to know, in the first place, whether you’re a goin’ to purwide me with a better.”
A sunbeam of placid benevolence played on Mr. Pickwick’s features as he said, “I have half made up my mind to engage you myself.”
“Have you though?” said Sam.
Mr. Pickwick nodded in the affirmative.
“Wages?” inquired Sam.
“Twelve pounds a year,” replied Mr. Pickwick.
“Clothes?”
“Two suits.”