“What, old Nobs!” ejaculated the son. And they shook hands heartily.
“Wery glad to see you, Sammy,” said the elder Mr. Weller, “though how you’ve managed to get over your mother-in-law, is a mystery to me. I only vish you’d write me out the receipt, that’s all.”
“Hush!” said Sam, “she’s at home, old feller.”
“She ain’t vithin hearin’,” replied Mr. Weller; “she always goes and blows up, down-stairs, for a couple of hours arter tea; so we’ll just give ourselves a damp, Sammy.”
Saying this, Mr. Weller mixed two glasses of spirits and water, and produced a couple of pipes. The father and son sitting down opposite each other: Sam on one side of the fire, in the high-backed chair, and Mr. Weller senior on the other, in an easy ditto: they proceeded to enjoy themselves with all due gravity.
“Anybody been here, Sammy?” asked Mr. Weller senior, drily, after a long silence.
Sam nodded an expressive assent.
“Red-nosed chap?” inquired Mr. Weller.
Sam nodded again.
“Amiable man that ’ere, Sammy,” said Mr. Weller, smoking violently.