Weller the elder gave vent to an extraordinary
sound, which, being neither a groan, nor a grunt, nor a
gasp, nor a growl, seemed to partake in some degree of the
character of all four.
Mr. Stiggins, encouraged by this sound, which he understood
to betoken remorse or repentance, looked about him,
rubbed his hands, wept, smiled, wept again, and then, walking
softly across the room to a well-remembered shelf in one corner,
took down a tumbler, and with great deliberation put four
lumps of sugar in it. Having got thus far, he looked about
him again, and sighed grievously; with that, he walked softly into
the bar, and presently returning with the tumbler half full of
pine-apple rum, advanced to the kettle which was singing gaily
on the hob, mixed his grog, stirred it, sipped it, sat down, and
taking a long and hearty pull at the rum-and-water, stopped for breath.
The elder Mr. Weller, who still continued to make various
strange and uncouth attempts to appear asleep, offered not a
single word during these proceedings; but when Stiggins stopped
for breath, he darted upon him, and snatching the tumbler from
his hand, threw the remainder of the rum-and-water in his face,
and the glass itself into the grate.
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