After a violent struggle, released his head and face
“Samivel!” exclaimed Mr. Weller, when he was thus enabled to behold his rescuer.
Sam nodded.
“You’re a dutiful and affectionate little boy, you are, ain’t you?” said Mr. Weller, “to come a bonnetin’ your father in his old age?”
“How should I know who you wos?” responded the son. “Do you s’pose I wos to tell you by the weight o’ your foot?”
“Vell, that’s wery true, Sammy,” replied Mr. Weller, mollified at once; “but wot are you a doin’ on here? Your gov’ner can’t do no good here, Sammy. They won’t pass that werdick, they won’t pass it, Sammy.” And Mr. Weller shook his head, with legal solemnity.
“Wot a perwerse old file it is!” exclaimed Sam, “alvays a goin’ on about werdicks and alleybis, and that. Who said anything about the werdick?”
Mr. Weller made no reply, but once more shook his head most learnedly.