Chapter 47 Is chiefly devoted to Matters of Business, and the tempora_dvantage of Dodson and Fogg—Mr. Winkle reappears under extraordinar_ircumstances—Mr. Pickwick’s Benevolence proves stronger than his Obstinacy
Job Trotter, abating nothing of his speed, ran up Holborn, sometimes in th_iddle of the road, sometimes on the pavement, sometimes in the gutter, as th_hances of getting along varied with the press of men, women, children, an_oaches, in each division of the thoroughfare, and, regardless of al_bstacles stopped not for an instant until he reached the gate of Gray’s Inn.
Notwithstanding all the expedition he had used, however, the gate had bee_losed a good half–hour when he reached it, and by the time he had discovere_r. Perker’s laundress, who lived with a married daughter, who had bestowe_er hand upon a non–resident waiter, who occupied the one–pair of some numbe_n some street closely adjoining to some brewery somewhere behind Gray’s In_ane, it was within fifteen minutes of closing the prison for the night. Mr.
Lowten had still to be ferreted out from the back parlour of the Magpie an_tump; and Job had scarcely accomplished this object, and communicated Sa_eller’s message, when the clock struck ten.
‘There,’ said Lowten, ‘it’s too late now. You can’t get in to–night; you’v_ot the key of the street, my friend.’
‘Never mind me,’ replied Job. ‘I can sleep anywhere. But won’t it be better t_ee Mr. Perker to–night, so that we may be there, the first thing in th_orning?’
‘Why,’ responded Lowten, after a little consideration, ‘if it was in anybod_lse’s case, Perker wouldn’t be best pleased at my going up to his house; bu_s it’s Mr. Pickwick’s, I think I may venture to take a cab and charge it t_he office.’ Deciding on this line of conduct, Mr. Lowten took up his hat, an_egging the assembled company to appoint a deputy–chairman during hi_emporary absence, led the way to the nearest coach–stand. Summoning the ca_f most promising appearance, he directed the driver to repair to Montagu_lace, Russell Square.
Mr. Perker had had a dinner–party that day, as was testified by the appearanc_f lights in the drawing–room windows, the sound of an improved grand piano, and an improvable cabinet voice issuing therefrom, and a rather overpowerin_mell of meat which pervaded the steps and entry. In fact, a couple of ver_ood country agencies happening to come up to town, at the same time, a_greeable little party had been got together to meet them, comprising Mr.
Snicks, the Life Office Secretary, Mr. Prosee, the eminent counsel, thre_olicitors, one commissioner of bankrupts, a special pleader from the Temple, a small–eyed peremptory young gentleman, his pupil, who had written a livel_ook about the law of demises, with a vast quantity of marginal notes an_eferences; and several other eminent and distinguished personages. From thi_ociety, little Mr. Perker detached himself, on his clerk being announced in _hisper; and repairing to the dining–room, there found Mr. Lowten and Jo_rotter looking very dim and shadowy by the light of a kitchen candle, whic_he gentleman who condescended to appear in plush shorts and cottons for _uarterly stipend, had, with a becoming contempt for the clerk and all thing_ppertaining to ‘the office,’ placed upon the table.
‘Now, Lowten,’ said little Mr. Perker, shutting the door,‘what’s the matter?
No important letter come in a parcel, is there?’
‘No, Sir,’ replied Lowten. ‘This is a messenger from Mr. Pickwick, Sir.’
‘From Pickwick, eh?’ said the little man, turning quickly to Job. ‘Well, wha_s it?’
‘Dodson and Fogg have taken Mrs. Bardell in execution for her costs, Sir,’ said Job.
‘No!’ exclaimed Perker, putting his hands in his pockets, and reclinin_gainst the sideboard.
‘Yes,’ said Job. ‘It seems they got a cognovit out of her, for the amount of ’em, directly after the trial.’
‘By Jove!’ said Perker, taking both hands out of his pockets, and striking th_nuckles of his right against the palm of his left, emphatically, ‘those ar_he cleverest scamps I ever had anything to do with!’
‘The sharpest practitioners I ever knew, Sir,’ observed Lowten.
‘Sharp!’ echoed Perker. ‘There’s no knowing where to have them.’
‘Very true, Sir, there is not,’ replied Lowten; and then, both master and ma_ondered for a few seconds, with animated countenances, as if they wer_eflecting upon one of the most beautiful and ingenious discoveries that th_ntellect of man had ever made. When they had in some measure recovered fro_heir trance of admiration, Job Trotter discharged himself of the rest of hi_ommission. Perker nodded his head thoughtfully, and pulled out his watch.
‘At ten precisely, I will be there,’ said the little man. ‘Sam is quite right.
Tell him so. Will you take a glass of wine, Lowten?’ ‘No, thank you, Sir.’
‘You mean yes, I think,’ said the little man, turning to the sideboard for _ecanter and glasses.
As Lowten did mean yes, he said no more on the subject, but inquired of Job, in an audible whisper, whether the portrait of Perker, which hung opposite th_ireplace, wasn’t a wonderful likeness, to which Job of course replied that i_as. The wine being by this time poured out, Lowten drank to Mrs. Perker an_he children, and Job to Perker. The gentleman in the plush shorts and cotton_onsidering it no part of his duty to show the people from the office out, consistently declined to answer the bell, and they showed themselves out. Th_ttorney betook himself to his drawing–room, the clerk to the Magpie an_tump, and Job to Covent Garden Market to spend the night in a vegetabl_asket.
Punctually at the appointed hour next morning, the good–humoured littl_ttorney tapped at Mr. Pickwick’s door, which was opened with great alacrit_y Sam Weller.
‘Mr. Perker, sir,’ said Sam, announcing the visitor to Mr. Pickwick, who wa_itting at the window in a thoughtful attitude. ‘Wery glad you’ve looked i_ccidentally, Sir. I rather think the gov’nor wants to have a word and a hal_ith you, Sir.’
Perker bestowed a look of intelligence on Sam, intimating that he understoo_e was not to say he had been sent for; and beckoning him to approach, whispered briefly in his ear.
‘You don’t mean that ‘ere, Sir?’ said Sam, starting back in excessiv_urprise.
Perker nodded and smiled.
Mr. Samuel Weller looked at the little lawyer, then at Mr. Pickwick, then a_he ceiling, then at Perker again; grinned, laughed outright, and finally, catching up his hat from the carpet, without further explanation, disappeared.
‘What does this mean?’ inquired Mr. Pickwick, looking at Perker wit_stonishment. ‘What has put Sam into this extraordinary state?’
‘Oh, nothing, nothing,’ replied Perker. ‘Come, my dear Sir, draw up your chai_o the table. I have a good deal to say to you.’
‘What papers are those?’ inquired Mr. Pickwick, as the little man deposited o_he table a small bundle of documents tied with red tape.
‘The papers in Bardell and Pickwick,’ replied Perker, undoing the knot wit_is teeth.
Mr. Pickwick grated the legs of his chair against the ground; and throwin_imself into it, folded his hands and looked sternly—if Mr. Pickwick eve_ould look sternly—at his legal friend.
‘You don’t like to hear the name of the cause?’ said the little man, stil_usying himself with the knot.
‘No, I do not indeed,’ replied Mr. Pickwick.
‘Sorry for that,’ resumed Perker, ‘because it will form the subject of ou_onversation.’
‘I would rather that the subject should be never mentioned between us, Perker,’ interposed Mr. Pickwick hastily.
‘Pooh, pooh, my dear Sir,’ said the little man, untying the bundle, an_lancing eagerly at Mr. Pickwick out of the corners of his eyes. ‘It must b_entioned. I have come here on purpose. Now, are you ready to hear what I hav_o say, my dear Sir? No hurry; if you are not, I can wait. I have thi_orning’s paper here. Your time shall be mine. There!’ Hereupon, the littl_an threw one leg over the other, and made a show of beginning to read wit_reat composure and application.
‘Well, well,’ said Mr. Pickwick, with a sigh, but softening into a smile a_he same time. ‘Say what you have to say; it’s the old story, I suppose?’
‘With a difference, my dear Sir; with a difference,’ rejoined Perker, deliberately folding up the paper and putting it into his pocket again. ‘Mrs.
Bardell, the plaintiff in the action, is within these walls, Sir.’
‘I know it,’ was Mr. Pickwick’s reply,
‘Very good,’ retorted Perker. ‘And you know how she comes here, I suppose; _ean on what grounds, and at whose suit?’
‘Yes; at least I have heard Sam’s account of the matter,’ said Mr. Pickwick, with affected carelessness.
‘Sam’s account of the matter,’ replied Perker, ‘is, I will venture to say, _erfectly correct one. Well now, my dear Sir, the first question I have t_sk, is, whether this woman is to remain here?’
‘To remain here!’ echoed Mr. Pickwick.
‘To remain here, my dear Sir,’ rejoined Perker, leaning back in his chair an_ooking steadily at his client.
‘How can you ask me?’ said that gentleman. ‘It rests with Dodson and Fogg; yo_now that very well.’
‘I know nothing of the kind,’ retorted Perker firmly. ‘It does not rest wit_odson and Fogg; you know the men, my dear Sir, as well as I do. It rest_olely, wholly, and entirely with you.’
‘With me!’ ejaculated Mr. Pickwick, rising nervously from his chair, an_eseating himself directly afterwards.
The little man gave a double–knock on the lid of his snuff–box, opened it, took a great pinch, shut it up again, and repeated the words, ‘With you.’
‘I say, my dear Sir,’ resumed the little man, who seemed to gather confidenc_rom the snuff—‘I say, that her speedy liberation or perpetual imprisonmen_ests with you, and with you alone. Hear me out, my dear Sir, if you please, and do not be so very energetic, for it will only put you into a perspiratio_nd do no good whatever. I say,’ continued Perker, checking off each positio_n a different finger, as he laid it down—‘I say that nobody but you ca_escue her from this den of wretchedness; and that you can only do that, b_aying the costs of this suit—both of plaintive and defendant—into the hand_f these Freeman Court sharks. Now pray be quiet, my dear sir.’
Mr. Pickwick, whose face had been undergoing most surprising changes durin_his speech, and was evidently on the verge of a strong burst of indignation, calmed his wrath as well as he could. Perker, strengthening his argumentativ_owers with another pinch of snuff, proceeded—
‘I have seen the woman, this morning. By paying the costs, you can obtain _ull release and discharge from the damages; and further—this I know is a fa_reater object of consideration with you, my dear sir—a voluntary statement, under her hand, in the form of a letter to me, that this business was, fro_he very first, fomented, and encouraged, and brought about, by these men, Dodson and Fogg; that she deeply regrets ever having been the instrument o_nnoyance or injury to you; and that she entreats me to intercede with you, and implore your pardon.’
‘If I pay her costs for her,’ said Mr. Pickwick indignantly. ‘A valuabl_ocument, indeed!’
‘No “if” in the case, my dear Sir,’ said Perker triumphantly. ‘There is th_ery letter I speak of. Brought to my office by another woman at nine o’cloc_his morning, before I had set foot in this place, or held any communicatio_ith Mrs. Bardell, upon my honour.’ Selecting the letter from the bundle, th_ittle lawyer laid it at Mr. Pickwick’s elbow, and took snuff for tw_onsecutive minutes, without winking.
‘Is this all you have to say to me?’ inquired Mr. Pickwick mildly.
‘Not quite,’ replied Perker. ‘I cannot undertake to say, at this moment, whether the wording of the cognovit, the nature of the ostensibl_onsideration, and the proof we can get together about the whole conduct o_he suit, will be sufficient to justify an indictment for conspiracy. I fea_ot, my dear Sir; they are too clever for that, I doubt. I do mean to say, however, that the whole facts, taken together, will be sufficient to justif_ou, in the minds of all reasonable men. And now, my dear Sir, I put it t_ou. This one hundred and fifty pounds, or whatever it may be—take it in roun_umbers—is nothing to you. A jury had decided against you; well, their verdic_s wrong, but still they decided as they thought right, and it is against you.
You have now an opportunity, on easy terms, of placing yourself in a muc_igher position than you ever could, by remaining here; which would only b_mputed, by people who didn’t know you, to sheer dogged, wrongheaded, bruta_bstinacy; nothing else, my dear Sir, believe me. Can you hesitate to avai_ourself of it, when it restores you to your friends, your old pursuits, you_ealth and amusements; when it liberates your faithful and attached servant, whom you otherwise doom to imprisonment for the whole of your life; and abov_ll, when it enables you to take the very magnanimous revenge—which I know, m_ear sir, is one after your own heart—of releasing this woman from a scene o_isery and debauchery, to which no man should ever be consigned, if I had m_ill, but the infliction of which on any woman, is even more frightful an_arbarous. Now I ask you, my dear sir, not only as your legal adviser, but a_our very true friend, will you let slip the occasion of attaining all thes_bjects, and doing all this good, for the paltry consideration of a few pound_inding their way into the pockets of a couple of rascals, to whom it makes n_anner of difference, except that the more they gain, the more they’ll seek, and so the sooner be led into some piece of knavery that must end in a crash?
I have put these considerations to you, my dear Sir, very feebly an_mperfectly, but I ask you to think of them. Turn them over in your mind a_ong as you please. I wait here most patiently for your answer.’
Before Mr. Pickwick could reply, before Mr. Perker had taken one twentiet_art of the snuff with which so unusually long an address imperativel_equired to be followed up, there was a low murmuring of voices outside, an_hen a hesitating knock at the door.
‘Dear, dear,’ exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, who had been evidently roused by hi_riend’s appeal; ‘what an annoyance that door is! Who is that?’
‘Me, Sir,’ replied Sam Weller, putting in his head.
‘I can’t speak to you just now, Sam,’ said Mr. Pickwick. ‘I am engaged at thi_oment, Sam.’
‘Beg your pardon, Sir,’ rejoined Mr. Weller. ‘But here’s a lady here, Sir, a_ays she’s somethin’ wery partickler to disclose.’
‘I can’t see any lady,’ replied Mr. Pickwick, whose mind was filled wit_isions of Mrs. Bardell.
‘I wouldn’t make too sure o’ that, Sir,’ urged Mr. Weller, shaking his head.
‘If you know’d who was near, sir, I rayther think you’d change your note; a_he hawk remarked to himself vith a cheerful laugh, ven he heerd th_obin–redbreast a–singin’ round the corner.’
‘Who is it?’ inquired Mr. Pickwick.
‘Will you see her, Sir?’ asked Mr. Weller, holding the door in his hand as i_e had some curious live animal on the other side.
‘I suppose I must,’ said Mr. Pickwick, looking at Perker.
‘Well then, all in to begin!’ cried Sam. ‘Sound the gong, draw up the curtain, and enter the two conspiraytors.’
As Sam Weller spoke, he threw the door open, and there rushed tumultuousl_nto the room, Mr. Nathaniel Winkle, leading after him by the hand, th_dentical young lady who at Dingley Dell had worn the boots with the fur roun_he tops, and who, now a very pleasing compound of blushes and confusion, an_ilac silk, and a smart bonnet, and a rich lace veil, looked prettier tha_ver.
‘Miss Arabella Allen!’ exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, rising from his chair.
‘No,’ replied Mr. Winkle, dropping on his knees. ‘Mrs. Winkle. Pardon, my dea_riend, pardon!’
Mr. Pickwick could scarcely believe the evidence of his senses, and perhap_ould not have done so, but for the corroborative testimony afforded by th_miling countenance of Perker, and the bodily presence, in the background, o_am and the pretty housemaid; who appeared to contemplate the proceedings wit_he liveliest satisfaction.
‘Oh, Mr. Pickwick!’ said Arabella, in a low voice, as if alarmed at th_ilence. ‘Can you forgive my imprudence?’
Mr. Pickwick returned no verbal response to this appeal; but he took off hi_pectacles in great haste, and seizing both the young lady’s hands in his, kissed her a great number of times—perhaps a greater number than wa_bsolutely necessary—and then, still retaining one of her hands, told Mr.
Winkle he was an audacious young dog, and bade him get up. This, Mr. Winkle, who had been for some seconds scratching his nose with the brim of his hat, i_ penitent manner, did; whereupon Mr. Pickwick slapped him on the back severa_imes, and then shook hands heartily with Perker, who, not to be behind–han_n the compliments of the occasion, saluted both the bride and the prett_ousemaid with right good–will, and, having wrung Mr, Winkle’s hand mos_ordially, wound up his demonstrations of joy by taking snuff enough to se_ny half–dozen men with ordinarily–constructed noses, a–sneezing for life.
‘Why, my dear girl,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘how has all this come about? Come!
Sit down, and let me hear it all. How well she looks, doesn’t she, Perker?’ added Mr. Pickwick, surveying Arabella’s face with a look of as much pride an_xultation, as if she had been his daughter.
‘Delightful, my dear Sir,’ replied the little man. ‘If I were not a marrie_an myself, I should be disposed to envy you, you dog.’ Thus expressin_imself, the little lawyer gave Mr. Winkle a poke in the chest, which tha_entleman reciprocated; after which they both laughed very loudly, but not s_oudly as Mr. Samuel Weller, who had just relieved his feelings by kissing th_retty housemaid under cover of the cupboard door.
‘I can never be grateful enough to you, Sam, I am sure,’ said Arabella, wit_he sweetest smile imaginable. ‘I shall not forget your exertions in th_arden at Clifton.’
‘Don’t say nothin’ wotever about it, ma’am,’ replied Sam. ‘I only assiste_atur, ma’am; as the doctor said to the boy’s mother, after he’d bled him t_eath.’
‘Mary, my dear, sit down,’ said Mr. Pickwick, cutting short these compliments.
‘Now then; how long have you been married, eh?’
Arabella looked bashfully at her lord and master, who replied, ‘Only thre_ays.’
‘Only three days, eh?’ said Mr. Pickwick. ‘Why, what have you been doing thes_hree months?’
‘Ah, to be sure!’ interposed Perker; ‘come, account for this idleness. You se_r. Pickwick’s only astonishment is, that it wasn’t all over, months ago.’
‘Why the fact is,’ replied Mr. Winkle, looking at his blushing young wife, ‘that I could not persuade Bella to run away, for a long time. And when I ha_ersuaded her, it was a long time more before we could find an opportunity.
Mary had to give a month’s warning, too, before she could leave her place nex_oor, and we couldn’t possibly have done it without her assistance.’ ‘Upon m_ord,’ exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, who by this time had resumed his spectacles, and was looking from Arabella to Winkle, and from Winkle to Arabella, with a_uch delight depicted in his countenance as warmheartedness and kindly feelin_an communicate to the human face—‘upon my word! you seem to have been ver_ystematic in your proceedings. And is your brother acquainted with all this, my dear?’
‘Oh, no, no,’ replied Arabella, changing colour. ‘Dear Mr. Pickwick, he mus_nly know it from you—from your lips alone. He is so violent, so prejudiced, and has been so—so anxious in behalf of his friend, Mr, Sawyer,’ adde_rabella, looking down, ‘that I fear the consequences dreadfully.’
‘Ah, to be sure,’ said Perker gravely. ‘You must take this matter in hand fo_hem, my dear sir. These young men will respect you, when they would listen t_obody else. You must prevent mischief, my dear Sir. Hot blood, hot blood.’ And the little man took a warning pinch, and shook his head doubtfully.
‘You forget, my love,’ said Mr. Pickwick gently, ‘you forget that I am _risoner.’
‘No, indeed I do not, my dear Sir,’ replied Arabella. ‘I never have forgotte_t. I have never ceased to think how great your sufferings must have been i_his shocking place. But I hoped that what no consideration for yourself woul_nduce you to do, a regard to our happiness might. If my brother hears o_his, first, from you, I feel certain we shall be reconciled. He is my onl_elation in the world, Mr. Pickwick, and unless you plead for me, I fear _ave lost even him. I have done wrong, very, very wrong, I know.‘Here poo_rabella hid her face in her handkerchief, and wept bitterly.
Mr. Pickwick’s nature was a good deal worked upon, by these same tears; bu_hen Mrs. Winkle, drying her eyes, took to coaxing and entreating in th_weetest tones of a very sweet voice, he became particularly restless, an_vidently undecided how to act, as was evinced by sundry nervous rubbings o_is spectacle–glasses, nose, tights, head, and gaiters.
Taking advantage of these symptoms of indecision, Mr. Perker (to whom, i_ppeared, the young couple had driven straight that morning) urged with lega_oint and shrewdness that Mr. Winkle, senior, was still unacquainted with th_mportant rise in life’s flight of steps which his son had taken; that th_uture expectations of the said son depended entirely upon the said Winkle, senior, continuing to regard him with undiminished feelings of affection an_ttachment, which it was very unlikely he would, if this great event were lon_ept a secret from him; that Mr. Pickwick, repairing to Bristol to seek Mr.
Allen, might, with equal reason, repair to Birmingham to seek Mr. Winkle, senior; lastly, that Mr. Winkle, senior, had good right and title to conside_r. Pickwick as in some degree the guardian and adviser of his son, and tha_t consequently behoved that gentleman, and was indeed due to his persona_haracter, to acquaint the aforesaid Winkle, senior, personally, and by wor_f mouth, with the whole circumstances of the case, and with the share he ha_aken in the transaction.
Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass arrived, most opportunely, in this stage of th_leadings, and as it was necessary to explain to them all that had occurred, together with the various reasons pro and con, the whole of the arguments wer_one over again, after which everybody urged every argument in his own way, and at his own length. And, at last, Mr. Pickwick, fairly argued an_emonstrated out of all his resolutions, and being in imminent danger of bein_rgued and remonstrated out of his wits, caught Arabella in his arms, an_eclaring that she was a very amiable creature, and that he didn’t know how i_as, but he had always been very fond of her from the first, said he coul_ever find it in his heart to stand in the way of young people’s happiness, and they might do with him as they pleased.
Mr. Weller’s first act, on hearing this concession, was to despatch Jo_rotter to the illustrious Mr. Pell, with an authority to deliver to th_earer the formal discharge which his prudent parent had had the foresight t_eave in the hands of that learned gentleman, in case it should be, at an_ime, required on an emergency; his next proceeding was, to invest his whol_tock of ready–money in the purchase of five–and–twenty gallons of mil_orter, which he himself dispensed on the racket–ground to everybody who woul_artake of it; this done, he hurra’d in divers parts of the building until h_ost his voice, and then quietly relapsed into his usual collected an_hilosophical condition.
At three o’clock that afternoon, Mr. Pickwick took a last look at his littl_oom, and made his way, as well as he could, through the throng of debtors wh_ressed eagerly forward to shake him by the hand, until he reached the lodg_teps. He turned here, to look about him, and his eye lightened as he did so.
In all the crowd of wan, emaciated faces, he saw not one which was not happie_or his sympathy and charity.
‘Perker,’ said Mr. Pickwick, beckoning one young man towards him, ‘this is Mr.
Jingle, whom I spoke to you about.’
‘Very good, my dear Sir,’ replied Perker, looking hard at Jingle. ‘You wil_ee me again, young man, to–morrow. I hope you may live to remember and fee_eeply, what I shall have to communicate, Sir.’
Jingle bowed respectfully, trembled very much as he took Mr. Pickwick’_roffered hand, and withdrew.
‘Job you know, I think?’ said Mr. Pickwick, presenting that gentleman.
‘I know the rascal,’ replied Perker good–humouredly. ‘See after your friend, and be in the way to–morrow at one. Do you hear? Now, is there anything more?’
‘Nothing,’ rejoined Mr. Pickwick. ‘You have delivered the little parcel I gav_ou for your old landlord, Sam?’
‘I have, Sir,’ replied Sam. ‘He bust out a–cryin’, Sir, and said you wos wer_en’rous and thoughtful, and he only wished you could have him innockilate_or a gallopin’ consumption, for his old friend as had lived here so long wo_ead, and he’d noweres to look for another.’ ‘Poor fellow, poor fellow!’ sai_r. Pickwick. ‘God bless you, my friends!’
As Mr. Pickwick uttered this adieu, the crowd raised a loud shout. Many amon_hem were pressing forward to shake him by the hand again, when he drew hi_rm through Perker’s, and hurried from the prison, far more sad an_elancholy, for the moment, than when he had first entered it. Alas! how man_ad and unhappy beings had he left behind!
A happy evening was that for at least one party in the George and Vulture; an_ight and cheerful were two of the hearts that emerged from its hospitabl_oor next morning. The owners thereof were Mr. Pickwick and Sam Weller, th_ormer of whom was speedily deposited inside a comfortable post–coach, with _ittle dickey behind, in which the latter mounted with great agility.
‘Sir,’ called out Mr. Weller to his master.
‘Well, Sam,’ replied Mr. Pickwick, thrusting his head out of the window.
‘I wish them horses had been three months and better in the Fleet, Sir.’
‘Why, Sam?’ inquired Mr. Pickwick.
‘Wy, Sir,’ exclaimed Mr. Weller, rubbing his hands, ‘how they would go if the_ad been!’