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— and — and worse than any man I ever saw, or heard of, except that pious and sanctified vagabond in the mulberry livery.’

      ‘Ha! ha!’ said Jingle, ‘good fellow, Pickwick — fine heart — stout old boy — but must NOT be passionate — bad thing, very — bye, bye — see you again some day — keep up your spirits — now, Job — trot!’

      With these words, Mr. Jingle stuck on his hat in his old fashion, and strode out of the room. Job Trotter paused, looked round, smiled and then with a bow of mock solemnity to Mr. Pickwick, and a wink to Mr. Weller, the audacious slyness of which baffles all description, followed the footsteps of his hopeful master.

      ‘Sam,’ said Mr. Pickwick, as Mr. Weller was following.

      ‘Sir.’ ‘Stay here.’

      Mr. Weller seemed uncertain.

      ‘Stay here,’ repeated Mr. Pickwick.

      ‘Mayn’t I polish that ‘ere Job off, in the front garden?’ said Mr. Weller. ‘Certainly not,’ replied Mr. Pickwick.

      ‘Mayn’t I kick him out o’ the gate, Sir?’ said Mr. Weller.

      ‘Not on any account,’ replied his master.

      For the first time since his engagement, Mr. Weller looked, for a moment, discontented and unhappy. But his countenance immediately cleared up; for the wily Mr. Muzzle, by concealing himself behind the street door, and rushing violently out, at the right instant, contrived with great dexterity to overturn both Mr. Jingle and his attendant, down the flight of steps, into the American aloe tubs that stood beneath.

      ‘Having discharged my duty, Sir,’ said Mr. Pickwick to Mr. Nupkins, ‘I will, with my friends, bid you farewell. While we thank you for such hospitality as we have received, permit me to assure you, in our joint names, that we should not have accepted it, or have consented to extricate ourselves in this way, from our previous dilemma, had we not been impelled by a strong sense of duty. We return to London tomorrow. Your secret is safe with us.’

      Having thus entered his protest against their treatment of the morning, Mr. Pickwick bowed low to the ladies, and notwithstanding the solicitations of the family, left the room with his friends.

      ‘Get your hat, Sam,’ said Mr. Pickwick.

      ‘It’s below stairs, Sir,’ said Sam, and he ran down after it.

      Now, there was nobody in the kitchen, but the pretty housemaid; and as Sam’s hat was mislaid, he had to look for it, and the pretty housemaid lighted him. They had to look all over the place for the hat. The pretty housemaid, in her anxiety to find it, went down on her knees, and turned over all the things that were heaped together in a little corner by the door. It was an awkward corner. You couldn’t get at it without shutting the door first.

      ‘Here it is,’ said the pretty housemaid. ‘This is it, ain’t it?’

      ‘Let me look,’ said Sam.

      The pretty housemaid had stood the candle on the floor; and, as it gave a very dim light, Sam was obliged to go down on HIS knees before he could see whether it really was his own hat or not. It was a remarkably small corner, and so — it was nobody’s fault but the man’s who built the house — Sam and the pretty housemaid were necessarily very close together.

      ‘Yes, this is it,’ said Sam. ‘Goodbye!’

      ‘Goodbye!’ said the pretty housemaid.

      ‘Goodbye!’ said Sam; and as he said it, he dropped the hat that had cost so much trouble in looking for.

      ‘How awkward you are,’ said the pretty housemaid. ‘You’ll lose it again, if you don’t take care.’

      So just to prevent his losing it again, she put it on for him.

      Whether it was that the pretty housemaid’s face looked prettier still, when it was raised towards Sam’s, or whether it was the accidental consequence of their being so near to each other, is matter of uncertainty to this day; but Sam kissed her.

      ‘You don’t mean to say you did that on purpose,’ said the pretty housemaid, blushing.

      ‘No, I didn’t then,’ said Sam; ‘but I will now.’

      So he kissed her again. ‘Sam!’ said Mr. Pickwick, calling over the banisters.

      ‘Coming, Sir,’ replied Sam, running upstairs.

      ‘How long you have been!’ said Mr. Pickwick.

      ‘There was something behind the door, Sir, which perwented our getting it open, for ever so long, Sir,’ replied Sam.

      And this was the first passage of Mr. Weller’s first love.

      Chapter XXVI.

       Which Contains a Brief Account of the Progress of the Action of Bardell Against Pickwick

       Table of Contents

      Having accomplished the main end and object of his journey, by the exposure of Jingle, Mr. Pickwick resolved on immediately returning to London, with the view of becoming acquainted with the proceedings which had been taken against him, in the meantime, by Messrs. Dodson and Fogg. Acting upon this resolution with all the energy and decision of his character, he mounted to the back seat of the first coach which left Ipswich on the morning after the memorable occurrences detailed at length in the two preceding chapters; and accompanied by his three friends, and Mr. Samuel Weller, arrived in the metropolis, in perfect health and safety, the same evening.

      Here the friends, for a short time, separated. Messrs. Tupman, Winkle, and Snodgrass repaired to their several homes to make such preparations as might be requisite for their forthcoming visit to Dingley Dell; and Mr. Pickwick and Sam took up their present abode in very good, old-fashioned, and comfortable quarters, to wit, the George and Vulture Tavern and Hotel, George Yard, Lombard Street.

      Mr. Pickwick had dined, finished his second pint of particular port, pulled his silk handkerchief over his head, put his feet on the fender, and thrown himself back in an easy-chair, when the entrance of Mr. Weller with his carpetbag, aroused him from his tranquil meditation.

      ‘Sam,’ said Mr. Pickwick. ‘Sir,’ said Mr. Weller.

      ‘I have just been thinking, Sam,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘that having left a good many things at Mrs. Bardell’s, in Goswell Street, I ought to arrange for taking them away, before I leave town again.’

      ‘Wery good, sir,’ replied Mr. Weller.

      ‘I could send them to Mr. Tupman’s, for the present, Sam,’ continued Mr. Pickwick, ‘but before we take them away, it is necessary that they should be looked up, and put together. I wish you would step up to Goswell Street, Sam, and arrange about it.’

      ‘At once, Sir?’ inquired Mr. Weller.

      ‘At once,’ replied Mr. Pickwick. ‘And stay, Sam,’ added Mr. Pickwick, pulling out his purse, ‘there is some rent to pay. The quarter is not due till Christmas, but you may pay it, and have done with it. A month’s notice terminates my tenancy. Here it is, written out. Give it, and tell Mrs. Bardell she may put a bill up, as soon as she likes.’

      ‘Wery good, sir,’ replied Mr. Weller; ‘anythin’ more, sir?’

      ‘Nothing more, Sam.’

      Mr. Weller stepped slowly to the door, as if he expected something more; slowly opened it, slowly stepped out, and had slowly closed it within a couple of inches, when Mr. Pickwick called out —

      ‘Sam.’

      ‘Yes, sir,’ said Mr. Weller, stepping quickly back, and closing the door behind him. ‘I have no objection, Sam, to your endeavouring to ascertain how Mrs. Bardell herself seems disposed towards me, and whether it is really probable that

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