'Hollo, old gen'l'm'n!' said Sam. 'Who have you got in this
here conweyance?'
'Stand back,' said Mr. Grummer, whose dignity, like the
dignity of a great many other men, had been wondrously
augmented by a little popularity.
'Knock him down, if he don't,' said Mr. Dubbley.
'I'm wery much obliged to you, old gen'l'm'n,' replied Sam,
'for consulting my conwenience, and I'm still more obliged to the
other gen'l'm'n, who looks as if he'd just escaped from a giant's
carrywan, for his wery 'andsome suggestion; but I should prefer
your givin' me a answer to my question, if it's all the same to you.
--How are you, Sir?' This last observation was addressed with a
patronising air to Mr. Pickwick, who was peeping through the
front window.
Mr. Grummer, perfectly speechless with indignation, dragged
the truncheon with the brass crown from its particular pocket,
and flourished it before Sam's eyes.
'Ah,' said Sam, 'it's wery pretty, 'specially the crown, which is
uncommon like the real one.'
'Stand back!' said the outraged Mr. Grummer. By way of
adding force to the command, he thrust the brass emblem of
royalty into Sam's neckcloth with one hand, and seized Sam's
collar with the other--a compliment which Mr.
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