‘Sam,’ said Mr. Pickwick, clearing his throat, ‘your father and I have been having some conversation about you.’
‘About you, Samivel,’ said Mr. Weller, in a patronising and impressive voice.
‘I am not so blind, Sam, as not to have seen, a long time since, that you entertain something more than a friendly feeling towards Mrs. Winkle’s maid,’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘You hear this, Samivel?’ said Mr. Weller, in the same judicial form of speech as before.
‘I hope, Sir,’ said Sam, addressing his master, ‘I hope there’s no harm in a young man takin’ notice of a young ‘ooman as is undeniably good-looking and well-conducted.’
‘Certainly not,’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘Not by no means,’ acquiesced Mr. Weller, affably but magisterially.
‘So far from thinking there is anything wrong in conduct so natura
