“You’re always away,” said Mary, giving her head the slightest possible toss in the air. “You no sooner come, Mr. Weller, than you go again.”

Mr. Weller drew the household beauty closer to him, and entered upon a whispering conversation, which had not proceeded far, when she turned her face round and condescended to look at him again. When they parted, it was somehow or other indispensably necessary for her to go to her room, and arrange the cap and curls before she could think of presenting herself to her mistress; which preparatory ceremony she went off to perform, bestowing many nods and smiles on Sam over the banisters as she tripped upstairs.

“I shan’t be avay more than a day, or two, Sir, at the furthest,” said Sam, when he had communicated to Mr. Pickwick the intelligence of his father’s loss.