“This is pleasant,” said Bob Sawyer, turning up his coat collar, and pulling the shawl over his mouth to concentrate the fumes of a glass of brandy just swallowed.

“Wery,” replied Sam composedly.

“You don’t seem to mind it,” observed Bob.

“Vy, I don’t exactly see no good my mindin’ on it ’ud do, sir,” replied Sam.

“That’s an unanswerable reason, anyhow,” said Bob.

“Yes, sir,” rejoined Mr. Weller. “Wotever is, is right, as the young nobleman sweetly remarked wen they put him down in the pension list ’cos his mother’s uncle’s vife’s grandfather vunce lit the king’s pipe vith a portable tinderbox.”

“Not a bad notion that, Sam,” said Mr. Bob Sawyer approvingly.