“To say this here,” said the elder Mr. Weller impatiently, “that it ain’t o’ no use to me. I’m a-goin’ to vork a coach reg’lar, and ha’n’t got noveres to keep it in, unless I vos to pay the guard for takin’ care on it, or to put it in vun o’ the coach pockets, vich ’ud be a temptation to the insides. If you’ll take care on it for me, sir, I shall be wery much obliged to you. P’raps,” said Mr. Weller, walking up to Mr. Pickwick and whispering in his ear⁠—“p’raps it’ll go a little vay towards the expenses o’ that ’ere conwiction. All I say is, just you keep it till I ask you for it again.” With these words, Mr. Weller placed the pocketbook in Mr. Pickwick’s hands, caught up his hat, and ran out of the room with a celerity scarcely to be expected from so corpulent a subject.