Having looked after her with
a very complacent expression of face, and after him with some
disdain, Mr. Weller caused his glance to travel slowly round the
kitchen, until at length it rested on his son.
'Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, 'I mistrust that barber.'
'Wot for?' returned Sam; 'wot's he got to do with you? You're a
nice man, you are, arter pretendin' all kinds o' terror, to go a
payin' compliments and talkin' about hearts and piercers.'
The imputation of gallantry appeared to afford Mr. Weller the
utmost delight, for he replied in a voice choked by suppressed
laughter, and with the tears in his eyes,
'Wos I a talkin' about hearts and piercers, - wos I though, Sammy,
eh?'
'Wos you? of course you wos.'
'She don't know no better, Sammy, there ain't no harm in it, - no
danger, Sammy; she's only a punster. She seemed pleased, though,
didn't she? O' course, she wos pleased, it's nat'ral she should
be, wery nat'ral.'
'He's wain of it!' exclaimed Sam, joining in his father's mirth.
'He's actually wain!'
'Hush!' replied Mr. Weller, composing his features, 'they're a
comin' back, - the little heart's a comin' back.
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