'He's uncommon pale,' replied his father, ''cept about the
nose, which is redder than ever. His appetite is wery so-so, but he
imbibes wonderful.'
Some thoughts of the rum appeared to obtrude themselves on
Mr. Weller's mind, as he said this; for he looked gloomy and
thoughtful; but he very shortly recovered, as was testified by a
perfect alphabet of winks, in which he was only wont to indulge
when particularly pleased.
'Vell, now,' said Sam, 'about my affair. Just open them ears o'
yourn, and don't say nothin' till I've done.' With this preface,
Sam related, as succinctly as he could, the last memorable
conversation he had had with Mr. Pickwick.
'Stop there by himself, poor creetur!' exclaimed the elder
Mr. Weller, 'without nobody to take his part! It can't be done,
Samivel, it can't be done.'
'O' course it can't,' asserted Sam: 'I know'd that, afore I came.'
'Why, they'll eat him up alive, Sammy,'exclaimed Mr. Weller.
Sam nodded his concurrence in the opinion.
'He goes in rayther raw, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller metaphorically,
'and he'll come out, done so ex-ceedin' brown, that his most
formiliar friends won't know him.
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