As the gentleman with the Mosaic studs had fallen
asleep, and the major part of the company were deeply occupied
in the humorous process of dropping melted tallow-grease into
his brandy-and-water, Mr. Pickwick departed unnoticed, and
having settled his own score, and that of Mr. Weller, issued forth,
in company with that gentleman, from beneath the portal of the
Magpie and Stump.
CHAPTER XXII
Mr. PICKWICK JOURNEYS TO IPSWICH AND MEETS WITH
A ROMANTIC ADVENTURE WITH A MIDDLE-AGED LADY
IN YELLOW CURL-PAPERS
'That 'ere your governor's luggage, Sammy?' inquired Mr. Weller of
his affectionate son, as he entered the yard of the Bull Inn,
Whitechapel, with a travelling-bag and a small portmanteau.
'You might ha' made a worser guess than that, old feller,'
replied Mr. Weller the younger, setting down his burden in the
yard, and sitting himself down upon it afterwards. 'The governor
hisself'll be down here presently.'
'He's a-cabbin' it, I suppose?' said the father.
'Yes, he's a havin' two mile o' danger at eight-pence,' responded
the son. 'How's mother-in-law this mornin'?'
'Queer, Sammy, queer,' replied the elder Mr. Weller, with
impressive gravity.
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