On this particular occasion the women drank tea to a most alarming extent; greatly to the horror of Mr. Weller, senior, who, utterly regardless of all Sam’s admonitory nudgings, stared about him in every direction with the most undisguised astonishment.

“Sammy,” whispered Mr. Weller, “if some o’ these here people don’t want tappin’ tomorrow mornin’, I ain’t your father, and that’s wot it is. Why, this here old lady next me is a-drowndin’ herself in tea.”

“Be quiet, can’t you?” murmured Sam.

“Sam,” whispered Mr. Weller, a moment afterwards, in a tone of deep agitation, “mark my vords, my boy. If that ’ere secretary fellow keeps on for only five minutes more, he’ll blow hisself up with toast and water.”