"Why?" inquired Mr. Pickwick.
"'Cause—" said Sam, hesitating.
"Because of what?" inquired Mr. Pickwick, alarmed at his follower's manner. "Speak out, Sam."
"'Cause," rejoined Sam; "'cause I've got a little bisness as I want to do."
"What business?" inquired Mr. Pickwick, surprised at Sam's confused manner.
"Nothin' partickler, sir," replied Sam.
"Oh, if it's nothing particular," said Mr. Pickwick, with a smile, "you can speak with me first."
"I think I'd better see arter it at once," said Sam, still hesitating.
Mr. Pickwick looked amazed, but said nothing.
"The fact is," said Sam, stopping short.
"Well!" said Mr. Pickwick. "Speak out, Sam."
"Why, the fact is," said Sam, with a desperate effort, "P'raps I'd better see arter my bed afore I do anythin' else."
"Your bed!" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, in astonishment.
"Yes, my bed, sir," replied Sam. "I'm a pris'ner. I was arrested, this here wery arternoon, for debt."
"You arrested for debt!" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, sinking into a chair.
"Yes, for debt, sir," replied Sam. "And the man as puts me in, 'ull never let me out, till you go yourself."
"Bless my heart and soul!" ejaculated Mr. Pickwick. "What do you mean?"
"Wot I say, sir," rejoined Sam. "If it's forty year to come, I shall be a pris'ner, and I'm very glad on it, and if it had been Newgate, it would ha' been just the same. Now the murder's out, and, damme, there's an end on it!"
With these words, which he repeated with great emphasis and violence, Sam Weller dashed his hat upon the ground, in a most unusual state of excitement; and then, folding his arms, looked firmly and fixedly in his master's face.
