At this point Sam Weller, who had had his eyes fixed hitherto on Mr. Namby’s shining beaver, interfered:
“Are you a Quaker?” said Sam.
“I’ll let you know who I am, before I’ve done with you,” replied the indignant officer. “I’ll teach you manners, my fine fellow, one of these fine mornings.”
“Thankee,” said Sam. “I’ll do the same to you. Take your hat off.” With this, Mr. Weller, in the most dexterous manner, knocked Mr. Namby’s hat to the other side of the room: with such violence, that he had very nearly caused him to swallow the gold toothpick into the bargain.
“Take your hat off”
“Observe this, Mr. Pickwick,” said the disconcerted officer, gasping for breath. “I’ve been assaulted in the execution of my dooty by your servant in your chamber. I’m in bodily fear. I call you to witness this.”
“Don’t witness nothin’, sir,” interposed Sam. “Shut your eyes up tight, sir. I’d pitch him out o’ winder, only he couldn’t fall far enough, ’cause o’ the leads outside.”