“Your mother-in-law, Sammy,” said Mr. Weller, “and the red-nosed man, my boy; and the red-nosed man. Ho! ho! ho!”
With this, Mr. Weller launched into convulsions of laughter, while Sam regarded him with a broad grin gradually overspreading his whole countenance.
“They’ve come to have a little serious talk with you, Samivel,” said Mr. Weller, wiping his eyes. “Don’t let out nothin’ about the unnat’ral creditor, Sammy.”
“Wot! don’t they know who it is?” inquired Sam.
“Not a bit on it,” replied his father.
“Vere are they?” said Sam, reciprocating all the old gentleman’s grins.
“In the snuggery,” rejoined Mr. Weller. “Catch the red-nosed man a goin’ anyvere but vere the liquors is; not he, Samivel, not he. Ve’d a wery pleasant ride along the road from the Markis this mornin’, Sammy,” said Mr. Weller, when he felt himself equal to the task of speaking in an articulate manner. “I drove the old piebald in that ’ere little shay-cart as belonged to your mother-in-law’s first wenter, into vich a harm-cheer wos lifted for the shepherd; and I’m blest,” said Mr. Weller, with a look of deep scorn: “I’m blest if they didn’t bring a portable flight o’ steps out into the road a front o’ our door, for him to get up by.”
