"makin' yourself so precious hot that you looks like a aggrawated glass-blower. Wot's the matter?"
"Aha!" replied the old gentleman, "I began to be afeerd that you'd gone for a walk round the Regency Park, Sammy."
"Come," said Sam, "none o' them taunts agin the wictim o' avarice, and come off that 'ere step. Wot are you a settin' down there for? I don't live there."
"I've got such a game for you, Sammy," said the elder Mr. Weller, rising.
"Stop a minit," said Sam, "you're all vite behind."
"That's right, Sammy, rub it off," said Mr. Weller, as his son dusted him. "It might look personal here, if a man walked about with whitevash on his clothes, eh, Sammy?"
As Mr. Weller exhibited in this place unequivocal symptoms of an approaching fit of chuckling, Sam interposed to stop it.
"Keep quiet, do," said Sam, "there never vos such a old picter-card born. Wot are you bustin' vith, now?"
"Sammy," said Mr. Weller, wiping his forehead, "I'm afeerd that vun o' these days I shall laugh myself into a appleplexy, my boy."
"Vell, then, wot do you do it for?" said Sam. "Now; wot have you got to say?"
"Who do you think's come here with me, Samivel?" said Mr. Weller, drawing back a pace or two, pursing up his mouth, and extending his eyebrows.
"Pell?" said Sam.
Mr. Weller shook his head, and his red cheek expanded with the laughter that was endeavouring to find a vent.
"Mottled-faced man, p'raps?" suggested Sam.
Again Mr. Weller shook his head.
"Who then?" asked Sam.
"Your mother-in-law," said Mr. Weller; and it was lucky he did say it, or his cheeks must inevitably have cracked, from their most unnatural distension.
"Your mother-in-law, Sammy," said Mr. Weller, "and the
