'
'That's a bad sign,' said Sam; 'if you'd said you meant to be vun
o' these days, I should ha' looked upon you as bein' safe. You're
in a wery precarious state.'
'I am not conscious of any danger, at all events,' returned the
barber.
'No more wos I, sir,' said the elder Mr. Weller, interposing;
'those vere my symptoms, exactly. I've been took that vay twice.
Keep your vether eye open, my friend, or you're gone.'
There was something so very solemn about this admonition, both in
its matter and manner, and also in the way in which Mr. Weller
still kept his eye fixed upon the unsuspecting victim, that nobody
cared to speak for some little time, and might not have cared to do
so for some time longer, if the housekeeper had not happened to
sigh, which called off the old gentleman's attention and gave rise
to a gallant inquiry whether 'there wos anythin' wery piercin' in
that 'ere little heart?'
'Dear me, Mr. Weller!' said the housekeeper, laughing.
'No, but is there anythin' as agitates it?' pursued the old
gentleman. 'Has it always been obderrate, always opposed to the
happiness o' human creeturs? Eh? Has it?'
At this critical juncture for her blushes and confusion, the
housekeeper discovered that more ale was wanted, and hastily
withdrew into the cellar to draw the same, followed by the barber,
who insisted on carrying the candle.
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