Pickwick grasped the
top of the wall, and gave the word 'Over,' which was literally
obeyed. Whether his body partook in some degree of the elasticity
of his mind, or whether Mr. Weller's notions of a gentle push
were of a somewhat rougher description than Mr. Pickwick's, the
immediate effect of his assistance was to jerk that immortal
gentleman completely over the wall on to the bed beneath,
where, after crushing three gooseberry-bushes and a rose-tree, he
finally alighted at full length.
'You ha'n't hurt yourself, I hope, Sir?' said Sam, in a loud
whisper, as soon as he had recovered from the surprise consequent
upon the mysterious disappearance of his master.
'I have not hurt MYSELF, Sam, certainly,' replied Mr. Pickwick,
from the other side of the wall, 'but I rather think that YOU have
hurt me.'
'I hope not, Sir,' said Sam.
'Never mind,' said Mr. Pickwick, rising, 'it's nothing but a few
scratches. Go away, or we shall be overheard.'
'Good-bye, Sir.'
'Good-bye.'
With stealthy steps Sam Weller departed, leaving Mr. Pickwick
alone in the garden.
Lights occasionally appeared in the different windows of the
house, or glanced from the staircases, as if the inmates were
retiring to rest.
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