"Placed me in such an extremely awkward situation," continued Mr. Pickwick.
"Very," was the reply of his followers, as they coughed slightly, and looked dubiously at each other.
This behaviour was not lost upon Mr. Pickwick. He remarked their incredulity. They evidently suspected him.
"There is a man in the passage now," said Mr. Tupman.
"It's the man I spoke to you about," said Mr. Pickwick, "I sent for him to the Borough this morning. Have the goodness to call him up, Snodgrass."
Mr. Snodgrass did as he was desired; and Mr. Samuel Weller forthwith presented himself.
"Oh—you remember me, I suppose?" said Mr. Pickwick.
"I should think so," replied Sam, with a patronising wink. "Queer start that 'ere, but he was one too many for you, warn't he? Up to snuff and a pinch or two over—eh?"
"Never mind that matter now," said Mr. Pickwick hastily, "I want to speak to you about something else. Sit down."
"Thank'ee, sir," said Sam. And down he sat without farther bidding, having previously deposited his old white hat on the landing outside the door. "Ta'nt a werry good 'un to look at," said Sam, "but it's an astonishin' 'un to wear; and afore the brim went, it was a werry handsome tile. Hows'ever it's lighter without it, that's one thing, and every hole lets in some air, that's another—wentilation gossamer I calls it." On the delivery of this sentiment, Mr. Weller smiled agreeably upon the assembled Pickwickians.
"Now with regard to the matter on which I, with the concurrence of these gentlemen, sent for you," said Mr. Pickwick.
"That's the pint, sir," interposed Sam; "out vith it, as the father said to the child, wen he swallowed a farden."
"We want to know, in the first place," said Mr. Pickwick, "whether you have any reason to be discontented with your present situation."
"Afore I answers that 'ere question, gen'lm'm, replied Mr.
