'Wery pretty.'
'I hope it may do you good, Samuel,' said Mrs. Weller solemnly.
'I think it vill, mum,' replied Sam.
'I wish I could hope that it would do your father good,' said
Mrs. Weller.
'Thank'ee, my dear,' said Mr. Weller, senior. 'How do you find
yourself arter it, my love?'
'Scoffer!' exclaimed Mrs. Weller.
'Benighted man!' said the Reverend Mr. Stiggins.
'If I don't get no better light than that 'ere moonshine o'
yourn, my worthy creetur,' said the elder Mr. Weller, 'it's wery
likely as I shall continey to be a night coach till I'm took off the
road altogether. Now, Mrs. We, if the piebald stands at livery
much longer, he'll stand at nothin' as we go back, and p'raps
that 'ere harm-cheer 'ull be tipped over into some hedge or
another, with the shepherd in it.'
At this supposition, the Reverend Mr. Stiggins, in evident
consternation, gathered up his hat and umbrella, and proposed
an immediate departure, to which Mrs. Weller assented. Sam
walked with them to the lodge gate, and took a dutiful leave.
'A-do, Samivel,' said the old gentleman.
'Wot's a-do?' inquired Sammy.
'Well, good-bye, then,' said the old gentleman.
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