"Independently of my wish that you should not be idling about a place like this, for years to come, I feel that for a debtor in the Fleet to be attended by his man-servant is a monstrous absurdity. Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, "for a time, you must leave me."
"Oh, for a time, eh, sir?" rejoined Mr. Weller, rather sarcastically.
"Yes, for the time that I remain here," said Mr. Pickwick. "Your wages I shall continue to pay. Any one of my three friends will be happy to take you, were it only out of respect to me. And if I ever do leave this place, Sam," added Mr. Pickwick, with assumed cheerfulness: "if I do, I pledge you my word that you shall return to me instantly."
"Now I'll tell you wot it is, sir," said Mr. Weller, in a grave and solemn voice, "This here sort o' thing won't do at all, so don't let's hear no more about it."
"I am serious, and resolved, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick.
"You air, air you, sir?" inquired Mr. Weller, firmly. "Wery good, sir. Then so am I."
Thus speaking, Mr. Weller fixed his hat on his head with great precision, and abruptly left the room.
"Sam!" cried Mr. Pickwick, calling after him, "Sam! Here!"
But the long gallery ceased to re-echo the sound of footsteps. Sam Weller was gone.
