Punctually at the appointed hour next morning, the good-
humoured little attorney tapped at Mr. Pickwick's door, which
was opened with great alacrity by Sam Weller.
'Mr. Perker, sir,' said Sam, announcing the visitor to Mr.
Pickwick, who was sitting at the window in a thoughtful attitude.
'Wery glad you've looked in accidentally, Sir. I rather think the
gov'nor wants to have a word and a half with you, Sir.'
Perker bestowed a look of intelligence on Sam, intimating that
he understood he was not to say he had been sent for; and
beckoning him to approach, whispered briefly in his ear.
'You don't mean that 'ere, Sir?' said Sam, starting back in
excessive surprise.
Perker nodded and smiled.
Mr. Samuel Weller looked at the little lawyer, then at Mr.
Pickwick, then at the ceiling, then at Perker again; grinned,
laughed outright, and finally, catching up his hat from the carpet,
without further explanation, disappeared.
'What does this mean?' inquired Mr. Pickwick, looking at
Perker with astonishment. 'What has put Sam into this
extraordinary state?'
'Oh, nothing, nothing,' replied Perker. 'Come, my dear Sir,
draw up your chair to the table.
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