Mr. Stiggins groaned.
'What's the matter with that 'ere gen'l'm'n?' inquired Sam.
'He's shocked at the way your father goes on in,' replied Mrs. Weller.
'Oh, he is, is he?' said Sam.
'And with too good reason,' added Mrs. Weller gravely.
Mr. Stiggins took up a fresh piece of toast, and groaned heavily.
'He is a dreadful reprobate,' said Mrs. Weller.
'A man of wrath!' exclaimed Mr. Stiggins. He took a large
semi-circular bite out of the toast, and groaned again.
Sam felt very strongly disposed to give the reverend Mr.
Stiggins something to groan for, but he repressed his inclination,
and merely asked, 'What's the old 'un up to now?'
'Up to, indeed!' said Mrs. Weller, 'Oh, he has a hard heart.
Night after night does this excellent man--don't frown,
Mr. Stiggins; I WILL say you ARE an excellent man--come and sit
here, for hours together, and it has not the least effect upon him.'
'Well, that is odd,' said Sam; 'it 'ud have a wery considerable
effect upon me, if I wos in his place; I know that.'
'The fact is, my young friend,' said Mr. Stiggins solemnly, 'he
has an obderrate bosom. Oh, my young friend, who else could
have resisted the pleading of sixteen of our fairest sisters, and
withstood their exhortations to subscribe to our noble society for
providing the infant negroes in the West Indies with flannel
waistcoats and moral pocket-handkerchiefs?'
'What's a moral pocket-ankercher?' said Sam; 'I never see one
o' them articles o' furniter.
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