It is the fate of a lonely old man, that those about him
should form new and different attachments and leave him. I have
no right to expect that it should be otherwise with me. No, no,'
added Mr. Pickwick more cheerfully, 'it would be selfish and
ungrateful. I ought to be happy to have an opportunity of
providing for him so well. I am. Of course I am.'
Mr. Pickwick had been so absorbed in these reflections, that a
knock at the door was three or four times repeated before he
heard it. Hastily seating himself, and calling up his accustomed
pleasant looks, he gave the required permission, and Sam Weller
entered, followed by his father.
'Glad to see you back again, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'How
do you do, Mr. Weller?'
'Wery hearty, thank'ee, sir,' replied the widower; 'hope I see
you well, sir.'
'Quite, I thank you,' replied Mr. Pickwick.
'I wanted to have a little bit o' conwersation with you, sir,' said
Mr. Weller, 'if you could spare me five minits or so, sir.'
'Certainly,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 'Sam, give your father a chair.'
'Thank'ee, Samivel, I've got a cheer here,' said Mr. Weller,
bringing one forward as he spoke; 'uncommon fine day it's been,
sir,' added the old gentleman, laying his hat on the floor as he sat
himself down.
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