“Well, goodbye, then,” said the old gentleman.

“Oh, that’s wot you’re aimin’ at, is it?” said Sam. “Goodbye!”

“Sammy,” whispered Mr. Weller, looking cautiously round; “my duty to your gov’nor, and tell him if he thinks better o’ this here bis’ness, to com-moonicate vith me. Me and a cab’net-maker has dewised a plan for gettin’ him out. A pianner, Samivel⁠—a pianner!” said Mr. Weller, striking his son on the chest with the back of his hand, and falling back a step or two.

“Wot do you mean?” said Sam.

“A pianner-forty, Samivel,” rejoined Mr. Weller, in a still more mysterious manner, “as he can have on hire; vun as von’t play, Sammy.”

“And wot ’ud be the good o’ that?” said Sam.