with facetious gravity applied his hand to his ear, as if desirous not to lose a syllable he uttered.
"And I have only to add, sir," said Mr. Pickwick, now thoroughly angry, "that I consider you a rascal, and a—a ruffian—and—and worse than any man I ever saw, or heard of, except that pious and sanctified vagabond in the mulberry livery."
"Ha! ha!" said Jingle, "good fellow, Pickwick—fine heart—stout old boy—but must not be passionate—bad thing, very—bye, bye—see you again some day—keep up your spirits—now, Job—trot!"
With these words, Mr. Jingle stuck on his hat in the old fashion, and strode out of the room. Job Trotter paused, looked round, smiled, and then with a bow of mock solemnity to Mr. Pickwick, and a wink to Mr. Weller, the audacious slyness of which baffles all description, followed the footsteps of his hopeful master.
"Sam,"said Mr. Pickwick, as Mr. Weller was following.
"Sir."
"Stay here."
Mr. Weller seemed uncertain.
"Stay here," repeated Mr. Pickwick.
"Mayn't I polish that ere Job off, in the front garden?" said Mr. Weller. "Certainly not," replied Mr. Pickwick.
"Mayn't I kick him out o' the gate, sir?" said Mr. Weller.
"Not on any account," replied his master.
For the first time since his engagement, Mr. Weller looked, for a moment, discontented and unhappy. But his countenance immediately cleared up; for the wily Mr. Muzzle, by concealing himself behind the street door, and rushing violently out, at the right instant, contrived with great dexterity to overturn both Mr. Jingle and his attendant, down the flight of steps, into the American aloe tubs that stood beneath.
"Having discharged my duty, sir," said Mr. Pickwick to Mr. Nupkins, "I will, with my friends, bid you farewell.
