Pickwick abruptly; for
he was considerably startled by this tragical termination of
the narrative.
'Wot did he do it for, Sir?' reiterated Sam. 'Wy, in support of
his great principle that crumpets wos wholesome, and to show
that he wouldn't be put out of his way for nobody!'
With such like shiftings and changings of the discourse, did
Mr. Weller meet his master's questioning on the night of his
taking up his residence in the Fleet. Finding all gentle remonstrance
useless, Mr. Pickwick at length yielded a reluctant consent
to his taking lodgings by the week, of a bald-headed cobbler, who
rented a small slip room in one of the upper galleries. To this
humble apartment Mr. Weller moved a mattress and bedding,
which he hired of Mr. Roker; and, by the time he lay down upon
it at night, was as much at home as if he had been bred in the
prison, and his whole family had vegetated therein for three generations.
'Do you always smoke arter you goes to bed, old cock?'
inquired Mr. Weller of his landlord, when they had both retired
for the night.
'Yes, I does, young bantam,' replied the cobbler.
'Will you allow me to in-quire wy you make up your bed
under that 'ere deal table?' said Sam.
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