er bestowed a look of intelligence on Sam, intimating that he
understood he was not to say he had been sent for; and beckoning him to
approach, whispered briefly in his ear.

'You don't mean that 'ere, Sir?' said Sam, starting back in excessive
surprise.

Perker nodded and smiled.

Mr. Samuel Weller looked at the little lawyer, then at Mr. Pickwick,
then at the ceiling, then at Perker again; grinned, laughed outright,
and finally, catching up his hat from the carpet, without further
explanation, disappeared.

'What does this mean?' inquired Mr. Pickwick, looking at Perker with
astonishment. 'What has put Sam into this extraordinary state?'

'Oh, nothing, nothing,' replied Perker. 'Come, my dear Sir, draw up your
chair to the table. I have a good deal to say to you.'

'What papers are those?' inquired Mr. Pickwick, as the little man
deposited on the table a small bundle of documents tied with red tape.

'The papers in Bardell and Pickwick,' replied Perker, undoing the knot
with his teeth.

Mr. Pickwick grated the legs of his chair against the ground; and
throwing himself into it, folded his hands and looked sternly--if Mr.
Pickwick ever could look sternly--at his legal friend.

'You don't like to hear the name of the cause?' said the little man,
still busying himself with the knot.

'No, I do not indeed,' replied Mr. Pickwick.

'Sorry for that,' resumed Perker, 'because it will form the subject of
our conversation.'

'I would rather that the subject should be never mentioned between us,
Perker,' interposed Mr. Pickwick hastily.

'Pooh, pooh, my dear Sir,' said the little man, untying the bundle, and
glancing eagerly at Mr. Pickwick out of the corners of his eyes. 'It
must be mentioned. I have come here on purpose. Now, are you ready to
hear what I have to say, my dear Sir? No hurry; if you are not, I can
wait. I have this morning's paper here. Your time shall be mine. There!'
Hereupon, the little man threw one leg over the other, and made a show
of beginning to read with great composure and application.

'Well, well,' said Mr. Pickwick, with a sigh, but softening into a
smile at the same time. 'Say what you have to say; it's the old story, I
suppose?'

'With a difference, my dear Sir; with a difference,' rejoined Perker,
deliberately folding up the paper and putting it into his pocket again.
'Mrs. Bardell, the plaintiff in the action, is within these walls, Sir.'

'I know it,' was Mr. Pickwick's reply