'
'I know it,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'I observed it once before, when
I was in this town. You may depend upon me.'
Mr. Trotter made another bow, and turned to depart, when
Mr. Pickwick thrust a guinea into his hand.
'You're a fine fellow,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'and I admire your
goodness of heart. No thanks. Remember--eleven o'clock.'
'There is no fear of my forgetting it, sir,' replied Job Trotter.
With these words he left the room, followed by Sam.
'I say,' said the latter, 'not a bad notion that 'ere crying. I'd
cry like a rain-water spout in a shower on such good terms.
How do you do it?'
'It comes from the heart, Mr. Walker,' replied Job solemnly.
'Good-morning, sir.'
'You're a soft customer, you are; we've got it all out o' you,
anyhow,' thought Mr. Weller, as Job walked away.
We cannot state the precise nature of the thoughts which
passed through Mr. Trotter's mind, because we don't know what
they were.
The day wore on, evening came, and at a little before ten
o'clock Sam Weller reported that Mr. Jingle and Job had gone
out together, that their luggage was packed up, and that they had
ordered a chaise. The plot was evidently in execution, as Mr.
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