“In the snuggery,” rejoined Mr. Weller. “Catch the red-nosed man a-goin’ anyvere but vere the liquors is; not he, Samivel, not he. Ve’d a wery pleasant ride along the road from the Markis this mornin’, Sammy,” said Mr. Weller, when he felt himself equal to the task of speaking in an articulate manner. “I drove the old piebald in that ’ere little chay-cart as belonged to your mother-in-law’s first wenter, into vich a harm-cheer wos lifted for the shepherd; and I’m blessed,” said Mr. Weller, with a look of deep scorn⁠—“I’m blessed if they didn’t bring a portable flight o’ steps out into the road a-front o’ our door for him, to get up by.”

“You don’t mean that?” said Sam.