“Never mind George Barnwell,” interrupted Sam, who had remained a wondering listener during this short colloquy; “everybody knows what sort of a case his was, though it’s always been my opinion, mind you, that the young ’ooman deserved scragging a precious sight more than he did. Hows’ever, that’s neither here nor there. You want me to accept of half a guinea. Wery well, I’m agreeable: I can’t say no fairer than that, can I, sir?” ( Mr. Pickwick smiled.) “Then the next question is, what the devil do you want with me, as the man said, wen he see the ghost?”

“We want to know⁠—” said Mr. Wardle.

“Now, my dear sir⁠—my dear sir,” interposed the busy little man.

Mr. Wardle shrugged his shoulders, and was silent.