“Widders, Sammy,” replied Mr. Weller, slightly changing colour. “Widders are ’ceptions to ev’ry rule. I have heerd how many ordinary women one widder’s equal to, in pint o’ comin’ over you. I think it’s five-and-twenty, but I don’t rightly know vether it ain’t more.”

“Well; that’s pretty well,” said Sam.

“Besides,” continued Mr. Weller, not noticing the interruption, “that’s a wery different thing. You know what the counsel said, Sammy, as defended the gen’l’m’n as beat his wife with the poker, venever he got jolly. ‘And arter all, my Lord,’ says he, ‘it’s a amable weakness.’ So I says respectin’ widders, Sammy, and so you’ll say, ven you gets as old as me.”

“I ought to ha’ know’d better, I know,” said Sam.