“This here money,” said Sam, with a little hesitation, “he’s anxious to put someveres, vere he knows it’ll be safe, and I’m wery anxious too, for if he keeps it, he’ll go a-lendin’ it to somebody, or inwestin’ property in horses, or droppin’ his pocketbook down an airy, or makin’ a Egyptian mummy of his-self in some vay or another.”

“Wery good, Samivel,” observed Mr. Weller, in as complacent a manner as if Sam had been passing the highest eulogiums on his prudence and foresight. “Wery good.”

“For vich reasons,” continued Sam, plucking nervously at the brim of his hat⁠—“for vich reasons, he’s drawn it out today, and come here vith me to say, leastvays to offer, or in other vords⁠—”