“Take care, Job Trotter, take care,” said Sam, looking after him, “or I shall be one too many for you this time. I shall indeed.” Having uttered this soliloquy, and looked after Job till he was to be seen no more, Mr. Weller made the best of his way to his master’s bed-room.
“It’s all in training, sir,” said Sam.
“What’s in training, Sam?” inquired Mr. Pickwick.
“I’ve found ’em out, sir,” said Sam.
“Found out whom?”
“That ’ere queer customer, and the melan-cholly chap with the black hair.”
“Impossible, Sam!” said Mr. Pickwick, with the greatest energy. “Where are they, Sam; where are they?”
“Hush, hush!” replied Mr. Weller; and as he assisted Mr. Pickwick to dress, he detailed the plan of action on which he proposed to enter.
“But when is this to be done, Sam?” inquired Mr. Pickwick.
“All in good time, sir,” replied Sam.