"Precisely, sir!" said Webster, with dignity. "Just as you say! Good afternoon, sir!"
He swayed gracefully, conveying a suggestion of departure without moving his feet. The action was enough for Sam. Dignity gave an expiring gurgle, and passed away, regretted by all.
"Don't go!" he cried.
The idea of being alone in this infernal lane, without human support, overpowered him. Moreover, Webster had personality. He exuded it. Already Sam had begun to cling to him in spirit, and rely on his support.
"Don't go!"
"Certainly not, if you do not wish it, sir."
Webster coughed gently, to show his appreciation of the delicate nature of the conversation. He was consumed with curiosity, and his threatened departure had been but a pretence. A team of horses could not have moved Webster at that moment.
"Might I ask, then what…?"
"There's been a misunderstanding," said Sam. "At least, there was, but now there isn't, if you see what I mean."
"I fear I have not quite grasped your meaning, sir."