“Is that you, Sam?” inquired Mr. Winkle, springing out of bed.

“Quite unpossible to identify any gen’l’m’n vith any degree o’ mental satisfaction, vithout lookin’ at him, Sir,” replied the voice dogmatically.

Mr. Winkle, not much doubting who the young man was, unlocked the door; which he had no sooner done than Mr. Samuel Weller entered with great precipitation, and carefully relocking it on the inside, deliberately put the key in his waistcoat pocket; and, after surveying Mr. Winkle from head to foot, said⁠—

“You’re a wery humorous young gen’l’m’n, you air, Sir!”

“What do you mean by this conduct, Sam?” inquired Mr. Winkle indignantly. “Get out, sir, this instant. What do you mean, Sir?”