'
'Ha! ha!' said Jingle, 'good fellow, Pickwick--fine heart--
stout old boy--but must NOT be passionate--bad thing, very--
bye, bye--see you again some day--keep up your spirits--now,
Job--trot!'
With these words, Mr. Jingle stuck on his hat in his old
fashion, and strode out of the room. Job Trotter paused, looked
round, smiled and then with a bow of mock solemnity to Mr.
Pickwick, and a wink to Mr. Weller, the audacious slyness of which
baffles all description, followed the footsteps of his hopeful master.
'Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, as Mr. Weller was following.
'Sir.'
'Stay here.'
Mr. Weller seemed uncertain.
'Stay here,' repeated Mr. Pickwick.
'Mayn't I polish that 'ere Job off, in the front garden?' said
Mr. Weller.
'Certainly not,' replied Mr. Pickwick.
'Mayn't I kick him out o' the gate, Sir?' said Mr. Weller.
'Not on any account,' replied his master.
For the first time since his engagement, Mr. Weller looked, for
a moment, discontented and unhappy. But his countenance
immediately cleared up; for the wily Mr. Muzzle, by concealing
himself behind the street door, and rushing violently out, at the
right instant, contrived with great dexterity to overturn both
Mr.
Pages:
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646