“Young man,” said Mr. Stiggins ostentatiously, “I fear you are not softened by imprisonment.”
“Beg your pardon, sir,” replied Sam; “wot wos you graciously pleased to hobserve?”
“I apprehend, young man, that your nature is no softer for this chastening,” said Mr. Stiggins, in a loud voice.
“Sir,” replied Sam, “you’re wery kind to say so. I hope my natur is not a soft vun, sir. Wery much obliged to you for your good opinion, sir.”
At this point of the conversation, a sound, indecorously approaching to a laugh, was heard to proceed from the chair in which the elder Mr. Weller was seated; upon which Mrs. Weller, on a hasty consideration of all the circumstances of the case, considered it her bounden duty to become gradually hysterical.
“Weller,” said Mrs. W. (the old gentleman was seated in a corner); “Weller! Come forth.”
“Wery much obleeged to you, my dear,” replied Mr. Weller; “but I’m quite comfortable vere I am.”
Upon this Mrs. Weller burst into tears.
“Wot’s gone wrong, mum?” said Sam.
“Oh, Samuel!” replied Mrs. Weller, “your father makes me wretched. Will nothing do him good?”