'I maintain that that 'ere song's personal to the cloth,' said the
mottled-faced gentleman, interrupting it at this point. 'I demand
the name o' that coachman.'
'Nobody know'd,' replied Sam. 'He hadn't got his card in his pocket.'
'I object to the introduction o' politics,' said the mottled-faced gentleman. 'I submit that, in the present company, that
'ere song's political; and, wot's much the same, that it ain't true.
I say that that coachman did not run away; but that he died
game—game as pheasants; and I won't hear nothin' said to
the contrairey.'
As the mottled-faced gentleman spoke with great energy and
determination, and as the opinions of the company seemed
divided on the subject, it threatened to give rise to fresh altercation,
when Mr. Weller and Mr. Pell most opportunely arrived.
'All right, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller.
'The officer will be here at four o'clock,' said Mr. Pell. 'I
suppose you won't run away meanwhile, eh? Ha! ha!'
'P'raps my cruel pa 'ull relent afore then,' replied Sam, with a
broad grin.
'Not I,' said the elder Mr. Weller.
'Do,' said Sam.
'Not on no account,' replied the inexorable creditor.
'I'll give bills for the amount, at sixpence a month,' said Sam.
'I won't take 'em,' said Mr. Weller.
'Ha, ha, ha! very good, very good,' said Mr. Solomon
Pell, who was making out his little bill of costs; 'a very
amusing incident indeed! Benjamin, copy that.' And Mr.
Pell smiled again, as he called Mr. Weller's attention to the amount.
'Thank you, thank you,' said the professional gentleman,
taking up another of the greasy notes as Mr. Weller took it from
the pocket-book. 'Three ten and one ten is five. Much obliged to
you, Mr. Weller. Your son is a most deserving young man, very
much so indeed, Sir. It's a very pleasant trait in a young man's
character, very much so,' added Mr. Pell, smiling smoothly
round, as he buttoned up the money.
'Wot a game it is!' said the elder Mr. Weller, with a chuckle.
'A reg'lar prodigy son!'
'Prodigal—prodigal son, Sir,' suggested Mr. Pell, mildly.
'Never mind, Sir,' said Mr. Weller, with dignity. 'I know wot's
o'clock, Sir. Wen I don't, I'll ask you, Sir.'
By the time the officer arrived, Sam had made himself so
extremely popular, that the congregated gentlemen determined to
see him to prison in a body. So off they set; the plaintiff and
defendant walking arm in arm, the officer in front, and eight stout
coachmen bringing up the rear. At Serjeant's Inn Coffee-house
the whole party halted to refresh, and, the legal arrangements
being completed, the procession moved on again.
Some little commotion was occasioned in Fleet Street, by the
pleasantry of the eight gentlemen in the flank, who persevered in
walking four abreast; it was also found necessary to leave the
mottled-faced gentleman behind, to fight a ticket-porter, it being
arranged that his friends should call for him as they came back.
Nothing but these little incidents occurred on the way. When they
reached the gate of the Fleet, the cavalcade, taking the time from
the plaintiff, gave three tremendous cheers for the defendant, and,
after having shaken hands all round, left him.
Sam, having been formally delivered into the warder's custody,
to the intense astonishment of Roker, and to the evident emotion
of even the phlegmatic Neddy, passed at once into the prison,
walked straight to his master's room, and knocked at the door.
'Come in,' said Mr. Pickwick.
Sam appeared, pulled off his hat, and smiled.
'Ah, Sam, my good lad!' said Mr. Pickwick, evidently delighted
to see his humble friend again; 'I had no intention of hurting your
feelings yesterday, my faithful fellow, by what I said. Put down
your hat, Sam, and let me explain my meaning, a little more at length.'
'Won't presently do, sir?' inquired Sam.
'Certainly,' said Mr. Pickwick; 'but why not now?'
'I'd rayther not now, sir,' rejoined Sam.
'Why?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.
''Cause—' said Sam, hesitating.
'Because of what?' inquired Mr. Pickwick, alarmed at his
follower's manner. 'Speak out, Sam.'
''Cause,' rejoined Sam—''cause I've got a little bisness as I
want to do.'
'What business?' inquired Mr. Pickwick, surprised at Sam's
confused manner.
'Nothin' partickler, Sir,' replied Sam.
'Oh, if it's nothing particular,' said Mr. Pickwick, with a
smile, 'you can speak with me first.'
'I think I'd better see arter it at once,' said Sam, still hesitating.
Mr. Pickwick looked amazed, but said nothing.
'The fact is—' said Sam, stopping short.
'Well!' said Mr. Pickwick. 'Speak out, Sam.'
'Why, the fact is,' said Sam, with a desperate effort, 'perhaps
I'd better see arter my bed afore I do anythin' else.'
'YOUR BED!' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, in astonishment.
'Yes, my bed, Sir,' replied Sam, 'I'm a prisoner. I was arrested
this here wery arternoon for debt.'
'You arrested for debt!' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, sinking into
a chair.
'Yes, for debt, Sir,' replied Sam. 'And the man as puts me in,
'ull never let me out till you go yourself.'
'Bless my heart and soul!' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick. 'What do
you mean?'
'Wot I say, Sir,' rejoined Sam. 'If it's forty years to come, I shall
be a prisoner, and I'm very glad on it; and if it had been Newgate,
it would ha' been just the same. Now the murder's out, and,
damme, there's an end on it!'
With these words, which he repeated with great emphasis and
violence, Sam Weller dashed his hat upon the ground, in a most
unusual state of excitement; and then, folding his arms, looked
firmly and fixedly in his master's face.
