e it wos a-tellin' all about the misfortun' in a proper vay,
and then my father comes a-lookin' over him, and complicates the whole
concern by puttin' his oar in. That's just the wery sort o' thing he'd
do. You're right, Mary, my dear.'

Having satisfied himself on this point, Sam read the letter all over,
once more, and, appearing to form a clear notion of its contents for the
first time, ejaculated thoughtfully, as he folded it up--

'And so the poor creetur's dead! I'm sorry for it. She warn't a
bad-disposed 'ooman, if them shepherds had let her alone. I'm wery sorry
for it.'

Mr. Weller uttered these words in so serious a manner, that the pretty
housemaid cast down her eyes and looked very grave.

'Hows'ever,' said Sam, putting the letter in his pocket with a gentle
sigh, 'it wos to be--and wos, as the old lady said arter she'd married
the footman. Can't be helped now, can it, Mary?'

Mary shook her head, and sighed too.

'I must apply to the hemperor for leave of absence,' said Sam.

Mary sighed again--the letter was so very affecting.

'Good-bye!' said Sam.

'Good-bye,' rejoined the pretty housemaid, turning her head away.

'Well, shake hands, won't you?' said Sam.

The pretty housemaid put out a hand which, although it was a
housemaid's, was a very small one, and rose to go.

'I shan't be wery long avay,' said Sam.

'You're always away,' said Mary, giving her head the slightest possible
toss in the air. 'You no sooner come, Mr. Weller, than you go again.'

Mr. Weller drew the household beauty closer to him, and entered upon a
whispering conversation, which had not proceeded far, when she turned
her face round and condescended to look at him again. When they parted,
it was somehow or other indispensably necessary for her to go to her
room, and arrange the cap and curls before she could think of presenting
herself to her mistress; which preparatory ceremony she went off to
perform, bestowing many nods and smiles on Sam over the banisters as she
tripped upstairs.

'I shan't be avay more than a day, or two, Sir, at the furthest,' said
Sam, when he had communicated to Mr. Pickwick the intelligence of his
father's loss.

'As long as may be necessary, Sam,' replied Mr. Pickwick, 'you have my
full permission to remain.'

Sam bowed.

'You will tell your father, Sam, that if I can be of any assistance to
him in his present situation, I shall be most willing and ready to lend
him any aid in my power,'