"Let me look," said Sam.

The pretty housemaid had stood the candle on the floor; and as it gave a very dim light, Sam was obliged to go down on his knees before he could see whether it really was his own hat or not. It was a remarkably small corner, and so-it was nobody's fault but the man's who built the house-Sam and the pretty housemaid were necessarily very close together.

'Yes, this is it," said Sam.

"Good-bye." 'Good-bye," said the pretty housemaid.

Good-bye," said Sam: and as he said it, he dropped the hat that had cost so much trouble looking for.

"How awkward you are," said the pretty housemaid. "You'll lose it again, if you don't take care.'

So just to prevent his losing it again, she put it on for him.

Whether it was that the pretty housemaid's face looked prettier still, when it was raised towards Sam's, or whether it was the accidental consequence of their being so near each other, is matter of uncertainty to this day, but Sam kissed her.

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You don't mean to say you did that on purpose," said the pretty housemaid, blushing.

"No I didn't then," said Sam; "but I will now." So he kissed her again.

"Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, calling over the banisters. "Coming, Sir," replied Sam, running up stairs. "How long you have been," said Mr. Pickwick. "There was something behind the door, Sir, which perwented our getting it open, for ever so long," replied Sam. And this was the first passage of Mr. Weller's first love.

CHAPTER XXVI

WHICH CONTAINS A BRIEF ACCOUNT OF THE PROGRESS OF THE ACTION OF BARDELL AGAINST PICKWICK

HA

AVING accomplished the main end and object of his journey by the exposure of Jingle, Mr. Pickwick resolved on immediately returning to London, with the view of becoming acquainted with the proceedings which had been taken against him, in the mean time, by Messrs. Dodson and Fogg. Acting upon this resolution with all the energy and decision of his character, he mounted to the back seat of the first coach, which left Ipswich on the morning after the memorable occurrences detailed at length in the two preceding chapters; and accompanied

by his three friends and Mr. Samuel Weller, arrived in the metropolis in perfect health and safety, the same evening.

Here the friends for a short time separated. Messrs. Tupman, Winkle, and Snodgrass, repaired to their several homes to make such preparations as might be requisite for their forthcoming visit to Dingley Dell; and Mr. Pickwick and Sam took up their present abode in very good, old-fashioned, and comfortable quarters, to wit, the George and Vulture Tavern and Hotel, George Yard, Lombard Street.

Mr. Pickwick had dined, finished his second pint of particular port, pulled his silk handkerchief over his head, put his feet on the fender, and thrown himself back in an easy chair, when the entrance of Mr. Weller with his carpet bag aroused him from his tranquil meditations. Sam," said Mr. Pickwick.

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"Sir,"
" said Mr. Weller.

"I have just been thinking, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, "that having left a good many things at Mrs. Bardell's, in Goswell Street, I ought to arrange for taking them away, before I leave town again."

Wery good, Sir," replied Mr. Weller.

"I could send them to Mr. Tupman's for the present, Sam," continued Mr. Pickwick, "but, before we take them away, it is necessary that they should be looked up, and put together. I wish you would step up to Goswell Street, Sam, and arrange about it."

"At once, Sir?" inquired Mr. Weller. At once," replied Mr. Pickwick. "And stay, Sam," added Mr. Pickwick, pulling out his purse, "there is some rent to pay. The quarter is not due till Christmas, but you may pay it, and have done with it. A month's notice terminates my tenancy. Here it is, written out. Give it, and tell Mrs. Bardell she may put a bill up, as soon as she likes."

Wery good, Sir," replied Mr. Weller; "anythin' more, Sir?"

"Nothing more, Sam."

Mr. Weller stepped slowly to the door, as if he expected something further; slowly opened it, slowly stepped out, and had slowly closed it within a couple of inches, when Mr. Pickwick called out

"Sam."

"Yes, Sir," said Mr. Weller, stepping quickly back, and closing the door behind him.

"I have no objection, Sam, to your endeavouring to

ascertain how Mrs. Bardell herself, seems disposed towards me, and whether it is really probable that this vile and groundless action is to be carried to extremity. I say I do not object to your doing this, if you wish it, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick.

Sam gave a short nod of intelligence, and left the room. Mr. Pickwick drew the silk handkerchief once more over his head, and composed himself for a nap; Mr. Weller promptly walked forth to execute his commission.

It was nearly nine o'clock when he reached Goswell Street. A couple of candles were burning in the little front parlour, and a couple of caps were reflected on the window-blind. Mrs. Bardell had got company.

Mr. Weller knocked at the door, and after a pretty long interval-occupied by the party without, in whistling a tune, and by the party within, in persuading a refractory flat candle to allow itself to be lighted-a pair of small boots pattered over the floor-cloth, and Master Bardell presented himself.

"Vell, young townskip," said Sam, "how's mother?" "She's pretty well," replied Master Bardell," so am I." "Vell, that's a mercy," said Sam; "tell her I want to speak to her, my hinfant fernomenon."

Master Bardell, thus adjured, placed the refractory flat candle on the bottom stair, and vanished into the front parlour with his message.

The two caps reflected on the window-blind, were the respective head-dresses of a couple of Mrs. Bardell's most particular acquaintance, who had just stepped in, to have a quiet cup of tea, and a little warm supper of a couple of sets of pettitoes and some toasted cheese. The cheese was simmering and browning away, most delightfully, in a little Dutch oven before the fire, and the pettitoes were getting on deliciously in a little tin saucepan on the hob; and Mrs. Bardell and her two friends were getting on very well, also, in a little quiet conversation about and concerning all their particular friends and acquaintance, when Master Bardell came back from answering the door, and delivered the message entrusted to him by Mr. Samuel Weller.

"Mr. Pickwick's servant!" said Mrs. Bardell, turning pale.

"Bless my soul!" said Mrs. Cluppins.

"Well, I raly would not ha' believed it, unless I had ha' happened to ha' been here!" said Mrs. Sanders. Mrs. Cluppins was a little brisk, busy-looking woman;

and Mrs. Sanders was a big, fat, heavy-faced personage; and the two were the company.

Mrs. Bardell felt it proper to be agitated; and as none of the three exactly knew whether, under existing circumstances, any communication, otherwise than through Dodson and Fogg, ought to be held with Mr. Pickwick's servant, they were all rather taken by surprise. In this state of indecision, obviously the first thing to be done, was to thump the boy for finding Mr. Weller at the door. So his mother thumped him, and he cried melodiously. "Hold your noise-do-you naughty creetur," said Mrs. Bardell.

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Yes; don't worrit your poor mother," said Mrs Sanders. "She's quite enough to worrit her, as it is, without you. Tommy," said Mrs. Cluppins, with sympathising resignation.

"Ah! worse luck, poor lamb!" said Mrs. Sanders.

At all which moral reflections, Master Bardell howled the louder.

"Now, what shall I do?" said Mrs. Bardell to Mrs. Cluppins.

"I think you ought to see him," replied Mrs. Cluppins. "But on no account without a witness."

"I think two witnesses would be more lawful," said Mrs. Sanders, who, like the other friend, was bursting with curiosity.

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'Perhaps he'd better come in here," said Mrs Bardell. "To be sure," replied Mrs. Cluppins, eagerly catching at the idea-" Walk in, young man: and shut the street door first, please."

Mr. Weller immediately took the hint; and presenting himself in the parlour, explained his business to Mrs. Bardell, thus

Wery sorry to 'casion any personal inconwenience, Ma'am, as the housebreaker said to the old lady ven he put her on the fire; but as me and my governor's only just come to town, and is just going away agin, it can't be helped, you see."

"Of course, the young man can't help the faults of his master," said Mrs. Cluppins, much struck by Mr. Weller's appearance and conversation.

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Certainly not," chimed in Mrs. Sanders, who, from certain wistful glances at the little tin saucepan, seemed to be engaged in a mental calculation of the probable extent of the pettitoes, in the event of Sam's being asked to stop supper.

"So all I've come about, is just this here," said Sam, dis

regarding the interruption-" First, to give my governor's notice there it is. Secondly, to pay the rent-here it is. Thirdly, to say as all his things is to be put together, and given to anybody as we sends for 'em. Fourthly, that you may let the place as soon as you like-and that's all."

"Whatever has happened," said Mrs. Bardell, "I always have said, and always will say, that in every respect but one, Mr. Pickwick has always behaved himself like a perfect gentleman. His money always was as good as the bank-always."

As Mrs. Bardell, said this, she applied her handkerchief to her eyes, and went out of the room to get the receipt. Sam well knew that he had only to remain quiet, and the women were sure to talk, so he looked alternately at the tin saucepan, the toasted cheese, the wall, and the ceiling, in profound silence.

"Poor dear!" said Mrs. Cluppins.

"Ah, poor thing!" replied Mrs. Sanders.

Sam said nothing. He saw they were coming to the subject.

"I raly cannot contain myself," said Mrs. Cluppins, "when I think of such perjury. I don't wish to say anything to make you uncomfortable, young man, but your master's an old brute, and I wish I had him here to tell him so."

"I vish you had," said Sam.

"To see how dreadful she takes on, going moping about, and taking no pleasure in nothing, except when her friends comes in, out of charity, to sit with her, and make her comfortable," resumed Mrs. Cluppins, glancing at the tin saucepan and the Dutch oven, "it's shocking." "Barbareous," said Mrs. Sanders.

"And your master, young man, a gentleman with money, as could never feel the expense of a wife, no more than nothing," continued Mrs. Cluppins, with great volubility; "Why, there ain't the faintest shade of an excuse for his behaviour. Why don't he marry her?"

"Ah," said Sam, "to be sure; that's the question." "Question, indeed," retorted Mrs. Cluppins; "she'd question him, if she'd my spirit. Hows'ever, there is law for us women, mis'rable creeturs as they'd make us, if they could; and that your master will find out, young man, to his cost, afore he's six months older."

At this consolatory reflection, Mrs. Cluppins bridled up, and smiled at Mrs. Sanders, who smiled back again.

The action's going on, and no mistake," thought Sam, as Mrs. Bardell re-entered with the receipt.