THE PICKWICK CLUB. 439
vich, he wos alvays called Number Tventy. The turnkey takes a fixed look at him, and at last he says in a solemn manner, ' Tventy,' he says, ♦ I'll trust you ; you won't g-et your old friend into trouble.* ' No, my boy ; I hope I've somethin* better behind here,' says the little man, and as he said it, he hit his little veskit wery hard, and then a tear started out o' each eye, which wos wery extraordinary ; for it wos supposed as water never touched his face. He shook the turnkey by the hand ; out he vent "
" And never came back again," said Mr. Pickwick.
" Wrong for vunce. Sir," replied Mr. Weller, " for back he come two minits afore the time, a bilin' vith rage, sayin* how he'd been nearly run over by a hackney coach ; that he warn't used to it, and he wos blovved if he wouldn't write to the Lord Mayor. They got him pacified at last ; and for five year arter that, he never even so much as peeped out o' the lodge-gate."
At the expiration of that time he died, 1 suppose," said Mr. Pick- wick.
- ' No he didn't, Sir," replied Sara. " He got a curiosity to go and
taste the beer at a new public-house over the way, on the premises ; and it wos such a wery nice parlour, that he took it into his head to go there every night, which he did for along time, alvays comin' back reg'lar about a quarter of an hour afore the gate shut, which wos all wery snug and comfortable. At last he began to get so precious jolly, that he used to forget how the time vent, or care nothin' at all about it, and he vent on gettin' later and later, till vun night his old friend wos just a shuttin' the gate — had turned the key in fact — ven he come up. ' Hold hard, Bill,' he says. ' Wot, ain't you come home yet, Tventy?' says the turnkey, ' I thought you was in long ago.' ' No I wasn't,' says the little man, vith a smile. ' Veil then, I'll tell you wot it is, my friend,* says the turnkey, openin' the gate wery slow and sulky, 'it's my 'pinion as you've got into bad company o' late, which I'm wery sorry to see. Now I don't wish to do anything harsh,' he says, * but if you can't confine yourself to steady circles, and find your vay back at reg'lar hours, as sure as you're a standin' there, I'll shut you out altogether !* The little man was seized vith a wiolent tit o' tremblin*, and never vent outside the prison walls artervards ! "
As Sam concluded, Mr. Pickwick slowly retraced his steps down stairs. After a few thoughtful turns in the Painted Ground, which, as it was now dark, was nearly deserted, he intimated to Mr. Weller that he thought it high time for him to withdraw for the night; requesting him to seek a bed in some adjacent public house, and return early in the morning, to make arrangements for the removal of his master's wardrobe from the George and Vulture. This request Mr. Samuel Weller prepared to obey, with as good a grace as he could assume, but with a very considerable show of reluctance nevertheless. He even went so far as to essay sundry ineifectual hints regarding the expe- diency of stretching himself on the gravel for that night ; but finding Mr. Pickwick obstinately deaf to any such suggestions, finally with- drew.
