“Not at all,” replied Sam.
“Well,” said Mr. Weller, with the tears still running down his cheeks, “it ’ud ha’ been a wery great accommodation to me if I could ha’ done it, and ’ud ha’ saved a good many vords atween your mother-in-law and me, sometimes; but I am afeerd you’re right, Sammy: it’s too much in the appleplexy line—a deal too much, Samivel.”
This conversation brought them to the door of the snuggery, into which Sam—pausing for an instant to look over his shoulder, and cast a sly leer at his respected progenitor, who was still giggling behind—at once led the way.
“Mother-in-law,” said Sam, politely saluting the lady, “wery much obliged to you for this here wisit. Shepherd, how air you?”
“Oh, Samuel!” said Mrs. Weller. “This is dreadful.”
“Not a bit of it, mum,” replied Sam. “Is it, shepherd?”
Mr. Stiggins raised his hands, and turned up his eyes, till the whites—or rather the yellows—were alone visible; but made no reply in words.
“Is this here gen’l’m’n troubled vith any painful complaint?” said Sam, looking to his mother-in-law for explanation.
“The good man is grieved to see you here, Samuel,” replied Mrs. Weller.
“Oh, that’s it, is it?” said Sam. “I was afeerd, from his manner, that he might a’ forgotten to take pepper with that ’ere last cowcumber he eat. Set down, sir, ve make no extra charge for the settin’ down, as the king remarked ven he blowed up his ministers.”