“Sam,” said Mr. Pickwick, with great severity, “hold your tongue.”

“Wery well, sir,” replied Mr. Weller.

“I don’t like this plan,” said Mr. Pickwick, after deep meditation. “Why cannot I communicate with the young lady’s friends?”

“Because they live one hundred miles from here, sir,” responded Job Trotter.

“That’s a clincher,” said Mr. Weller, aside.

“Then this garden,” resumed Mr. Pickwick. “How am I to get into it?”