The Pickwick Papers
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actuated by a sudden impulse, complied with his request.
'How,' said Job Trotter, as they walked away, 'how is your
dear, good master? Oh, he is a worthy gentleman, Mr. Weller!
I hope he didn't catch cold, that dreadful night, Sir.'
There was a momentary look of deep slyness in Job Trotter's
eye, as he said this, which ran a thrill through Mr. Weller's
clenched fist, as he burned with a desire to make a demonstration
on his ribs. Sam constrained himself, however, and replied that
his master was extremely well.
'Oh, I am so glad,' replied Mr. Trotter; 'is he here?'
'Is yourn?' asked Sam, by way of reply.
'Oh, yes, he is here, and I grieve to say, Mr. Weller, he is going
on worse than ever.'
'Ah, ah!' said Sam.
'At a boarding-school?' said Sam.
'No, not at a boarding-school,' replied Job Trotter, with the
same sly look which Sam had noticed before; 'not at a
'At the house with the green gate?' said Sam, eyeing his
'No, no--oh, not there,' replied Job, with a quickness very
unusual to him, 'not there.'
'What was you a-doin' there?' asked Sam, with a sharp glance.
'Got inside the gate by accident, perhaps?'
'Why, Mr. Weller,' replied Job, 'I don't mind telling you my
little secrets, because, you know, we took such a fancy for each
other when we first met. You recollect how pleasant we were
'Oh, yes,' said Sam, impatiently. 'I remember. Well?'
'Well,' replied Job, speaking with great precision, and in the
low tone of a man who communicates an important secret; 'in
that house with the green gate, Mr. Weller, they keep a good
'So I should think, from the look on it,' interposed Sam.
'Yes,' continued Mr. Trotter, 'and one of them is a cook, who
has saved up a little money, Mr. Weller, and is desirous, if she
can establish herself in life, to open a little shop in the chandlery
way, you see.'
'Yes, Mr. Weller. Well, Sir, I met her at a chapel that I go to; a
very neat little chapel in this town, Mr. Weller, where they sing
the number four collection of hymns, which I generally carry
about with me, in a little book, which you may perhaps have seen
in my hand--and I got a little intimate with her, Mr. Weller, and
from that, an acquaintance sprung up between us, and I may
venture to say, Mr. Weller, that I am to be the chandler.'
'Ah, and a wery amiable chandler you'll make,' replied Sam,
eyeing Job with a side look of intense dislike.
'The great advantage of this, Mr. Weller,' continued Job, his
eyes filling with tears as he spoke, 'will be, that I shall be able to
leave my present disgraceful service with that bad man, and to
devote myself to a better and more virtuous life; more like the
way in which I was brought up, Mr. Weller.'
'You must ha' been wery nicely brought up,' said Sam.
'Oh, very, Mr. Weller, very,' replied Job. At the recollection
of the purity of his youthful days, Mr. Trotter pulled forth the
pink handkerchief, and wept copiously.
'You must ha' been an uncommon nice boy, to go to school
vith,' said Sam.
'I was, sir,' replied Job, heaving a deep sigh; 'I was the idol of
'Ah,' said Sam, 'I don't wonder at it. What a comfort you
must ha' been to your blessed mother.'
At these words, Mr. Job Trotter inserted an end of the pink
handkerchief into the corner of each eye, one after the other, and
began to weep copiously.
'Wot's the matter with the man,' said Sam, indignantly.
'Chelsea water-works is nothin' to you. What are you melting
vith now? The consciousness o' willainy?'
'I cannot keep my feelings down, Mr. Weller,' said Job, after a
short pause. 'To think that my master should have suspected the
conversation I had with yours, and so dragged me away in a
post-chaise, and after persuading the sweet young lady to say she
knew nothing of him, and bribing the school-mistress to do the
same, deserted her for a better speculation! Oh! Mr. Weller, it
makes me shudder.'
'Oh, that was the vay, was it?' said Mr. Weller.
'To be sure it was,' replied Job.
'Vell,' said Sam, as they had now arrived near the hotel, 'I vant
to have a little bit o' talk with you, Job; so if you're not partickler
engaged, I should like to see you at the Great White Horse to-
night, somewheres about eight o'clock.'
'I shall be sure to come,' said Job.
'Yes, you'd better,' replied Sam, with a very meaning look, 'or
else I shall perhaps be askin' arter you, at the other side of the
green gate, and then I might cut you out, you know.'
'I shall be sure to be with you, sir,' said Mr. Trotter;
and wringing Sam's hand with the utmost fervour, he walked away.
'Take care, Job Trotter, take care,' said Sam, looking after
him, 'or I shall be one too many for you this time. I shall,
indeed.' Having uttered this soliloquy, and looked after Job till
he was to be seen no more, Mr. Weller made the best of his way
to his master's bedroom.
'It's all in training, Sir,' said Sam.
'What's in training, Sam?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.
'I've found 'em out, Sir,' said Sam.
'Found out who?'
'That 'ere queer customer, and the melan-cholly chap with the
'Impossible, Sam!' said Mr. Pickwick, with the greatest energy.
'Where are they, Sam: where are they?'
'Hush, hush!' replied Mr. Weller; and as he assisted Mr.
Pickwick to dress, he detailed the plan of action on which he
proposed to enter.
'But when is this to be done, Sam?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.
'All in good time, Sir,' replied Sam.
Whether it was done in good time, or not, will be seen hereafter.
WHEREIN Mr. PETER MAGNUS GROWS JEALOUS, AND THE
MIDDLE-AGED LADY APPREHENSIVE, WHICH BRINGS THE
PICKWICKIANS WITHIN THE GRASP OF THE LAW
When Mr. Pickwick descended to the room in which he and Mr. Peter
Magnus had spent the preceding evening, he found that gentleman with
the major part of the contents of the two bags, the leathern hat-box,
and the brown-paper parcel, displaying to all possible advantage
on his person, while he himself was pacing up and down the room in
a state of the utmost excitement and agitation.
'Good-morning, Sir,' said Mr. Peter Magnus. 'What do you
think of this, Sir?'
'Very effective indeed,' replied Mr. Pickwick, surveying the
garments of Mr. Peter Magnus with a good-natured smile.
'Yes, I think it'll do,' said Mr. Magnus. 'Mr. Pickwick, Sir, I
have sent up my card.'
'Have you?' said Mr. Pickwick.
'And the waiter brought back word, that she would see me at
eleven--at eleven, Sir; it only wants a quarter now.'
'Very near the time,' said Mr. Pickwick.
'Yes, it is rather near,' replied Mr. Magnus, 'rather too near to
be pleasant--eh! Mr. Pickwick, sir?'
'Confidence is a great thing in these cases,' observed Mr. Pickwick.
'I believe it is, Sir,' said Mr. Peter Magnus. 'I am very confident,
Sir. Really, Mr. Pickwick, I do not see why a man should
feel any fear in such a case as this, sir. What is it, Sir? There's
nothing to be ashamed of; it's a matter of mutual accommodation,
nothing more. Husband on one side, wife on the other. That's
my view of the matter, Mr. Pickwick.'
'It is a very philosophical one,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 'But
breakfast is waiting, Mr. Magnus. Come.'
Down they sat to breakfast, but it was evident, notwithstanding
the boasting of Mr. Peter Magnus, that he laboured
under a very considerable degree of nervousness, of which loss of
appetite, a propensity to upset the tea-things, a spectral attempt