If you walley my
precious life don't upset me, as the gen'l'm'n said to the driver
when they was a-carryin' him to Tyburn.' And quickening his
pace to a sharp run, Mr. Weller wheeled his master nimbly to the
green hill, shot him dexterously out by the very side of the basket,
and proceeded to unpack it with the utmost despatch.
'Weal pie,' said Mr. Weller, soliloquising, as he arranged the
eatables on the grass. 'Wery good thing is weal pie, when you
know the lady as made it, and is quite sure it ain't kittens; and
arter all though, where's the odds, when they're so like weal that
the wery piemen themselves don't know the difference?'
'Don't they, Sam?' said Mr. Pickwick.
'Not they, sir,' replied Mr. Weller, touching his hat. 'I lodged
in the same house vith a pieman once, sir, and a wery nice man
he was--reg'lar clever chap, too--make pies out o' anything, he
could. "What a number o' cats you keep, Mr. Brooks," says I,
when I'd got intimate with him. "Ah," says he, "I do--a good
many," says he, "You must be wery fond o' cats," says I. "Other
people is," says he, a-winkin' at me; "they ain't in season till the
winter though," says he.
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