'Quite. Quite, now,' replied Mr. Pickwick.
'Then come along, Sir,' said Sam, setting his master on his feet
again. 'Come betveen us, sir. Not half a mile to run. Think you're
vinnin' a cup, sir. Now for it.'
Thus encouraged, Mr. Pickwick made the very best use of his
legs. It may be confidently stated that a pair of black gaiters
never got over the ground in better style than did those of Mr.
Pickwick on this memorable occasion.
The coach was waiting, the horses were fresh, the roads were
good, and the driver was willing. The whole party arrived in
safety at the Bush before Mr. Pickwick had recovered his breath.
'in with you at once, sir,' said Sam, as he helped his master out.
'Don't stop a second in the street, arter that 'ere exercise. Beg
your pardon, sir,'continued Sam, touching his hat as Mr. Winkle
descended, 'hope there warn't a priory 'tachment, sir?'
Mr. Winkle grasped his humble friend by the hand, and
whispered in his ear, 'It's all right, Sam; quite right.' Upon which
Mr. Weller struck three distinct blows upon his nose in token of
intelligence, smiled, winked, and proceeded to put the steps up,
with a countenance expressive of lively satisfaction.
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