With this figurative illustration of his meaning, Mr. Weller unclasped his pocket-book, and drew forth a dirty sheet of letter paper, on which were inscribed various characters crowded together in remarkable confusion.
“This here is the dockyment, Sammy,” said Mr. Weller. “I found it in the little black teapot, on the top shelf o’ the bar closet. She used to keep bank notes there, ‘afore she vos married, Samivel. I’ve seen her take the lid off, to pay a bill, many and many a time. Poor creetur, she might ha’ filled all the teapots in the house vith vills, and not have inconwenienced herself neither, for she took wery little of anythin’ in that vay lately, ’cept on the Temperance nights, ven they fust laid a foundation o’ tea to put the spirits a-top on!”
“What does it say?” inquired Sam.
“Jist vot I told you, my boy,” rejoined his parent. “Two hundred pound vurth o’ reduced counsels to my son-in-law, Samivel, and all the rest o’ my property, of ev’ry kind and description votsoever to my husband, Mr. Tony Veller, who I appint as my sole eggzekiter.”
“That’s all, is it?” said Sam.
“That’s all,” replied Mr. Weller. “And I s’pose as it’s all right and satisfactory to you and me as is the only parties interested, ve may as vell put this bit o’ paper into the fire.”
“Wot are you a-doin’ on, you lunatic?” said Sam, snatching the paper away, as his parent, in all innocence, stirred the fire preparatory to suiting the action to the word. “You’re a nice eggzeketir, you are.”
“Vy not?” inquired Mr. Weller, looking sternly round, with the poker in his hand.
“Vy not!” exclaimed Sam. “’Cos it must be proved, and probated, and swore to, and all manner o’ formalities.”
“You don’t mean that?” said Mr. Weller, laying down the poker.