Weller, beginning to button with
extraordinary assiduity.
'Are you sure, Sam?' said Mr. Pickwick.
'Wy, sir,' responded Mr. Weller; 'I'm sure so far, that I've
never heerd anythin' on the subject afore this moment. If I makes
any guess about it,' added Sam, looking at Mr. Winkle, 'I
haven't got any right to say what 'It is, fear it should be a
wrong 'un.'
'I have no right to make any further inquiry into the private
affairs of a friend, however intimate a friend,' said Mr. Pickwick,
after a short silence; 'at present let me merely say, that I do not
understand this at all. There. We have had quite enough of the
subject.'
Thus expressing himself, Mr. Pickwick led the conversation to
different topics, and Mr. Winkle gradually appeared more at
ease, though still very far from being completely so. They had all
so much to converse about, that the morning very quickly passed
away; and when, at three o'clock, Mr. Weller produced upon the
little dining-table, a roast leg of mutton and an enormous meat-
pie, with sundry dishes of vegetables, and pots of porter, which
stood upon the chairs or the sofa bedstead, or where they could,
everybody felt disposed to do justice to the meal, notwithstanding
that the meat had been purchased, and dressed, and the pie
made, and baked, at the prison cookery hard by.
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