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Dickens, Charles

"The Pickwick Papers"


'I ha'n't got a glass,' said Mary.
'Drink with me, my dear,' said Mr. Weller. 'Put your lips to
this here tumbler, and then I can kiss you by deputy.'
'For shame, Mr. Weller!' said Mary.
'What's a shame, my dear?'
'Talkin' in that way.'
'Nonsense; it ain't no harm. It's natur; ain't it, cook?'
'Don't ask me, imperence,' replied the cook, in a high state of
delight; and hereupon the cook and Mary laughed again, till
what between the beer, and the cold meat, and the laughter
combined, the latter young lady was brought to the verge of
choking--an alarming crisis from which she was only recovered
by sundry pats on the back, and other necessary attentions, most
delicately administered by Mr. Samuel Weller.
In the midst of all this jollity and conviviality, a loud ring was
heard at the garden gate, to which the young gentleman who
took his meals in the wash-house, immediately responded. Mr.
Weller was in the height of his attentions to the pretty house-
maid; Mr. Muzzle was busy doing the honours of the table; and
the cook had just paused to laugh, in the very act of raising a
huge morsel to her lips; when the kitchen door opened, and in
walked Mr.


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