his father, with dignity.

Sam acted upon the direction. There was another tap, and another, and
then a long row of taps; upon which Sam inquired why the tapper was not
admitted.

'Hush,' whispered Mr. Weller, with apprehensive looks, 'don't take no
notice on 'em, Sammy, it's vun o' the widders, p'raps.'

No notice being taken of the taps, the unseen visitor, after a short
lapse, ventured to open the door and peep in. It was no female head that
was thrust in at the partially-opened door, but the long black locks and
red face of Mr. Stiggins. Mr. Weller's pipe fell from his hands.

The reverend gentleman gradually opened the door by almost imperceptible
degrees, until the aperture was just wide enough to admit of the passage
of his lank body, when he glided into the room and closed it after him,
with great care and gentleness. Turning towards Sam, and raising his
hands and eyes in token of the unspeakable sorrow with which he regarded
the calamity that had befallen the family, he carried the high-backed
chair to his old corner by the fire, and, seating himself on the very
edge, drew forth a brown pocket-handkerchief, and applied the same to
his optics.

While this was going forward, the elder Mr. Weller sat back in his
chair, with his eyes wide open, his hands planted on his knees, and his
whole countenance expressive of absorbing and overwhelming astonishment.
Sam sat opposite him in perfect silence, waiting, with eager curiosity,
for the termination of the scene.

Mr. Stiggins kept the brown pocket-handkerchief before his eyes for some
minutes, moaning decently meanwhile, and then, mastering his feelings by
a strong effort, put it in his pocket and buttoned it up. After this, he
stirred the fire; after that, he rubbed his hands and looked at Sam.

'Oh, my young friend,' said Mr. Stiggins, breaking the silence, in a
very low voice, 'here's a sorrowful affliction!'

Sam nodded very slightly.

'For the man of wrath, too!' added Mr. Stiggins; 'it makes a vessel's
heart bleed!' Mr. Weller was overheard by his son to murmur something
relative to making a vessel's nose bleed; but Mr. Stiggins heard him
not. 'Do you know, young man,' whispered Mr. Stiggins, drawing his chair
closer to Sam, 'whether she has left Emanuel anything?'

'Who's he?' inquired Sam.

'The chapel,' replied Mr. Stiggins; 'our chapel; our fold, Mr. Samuel.'

'She hasn't left the fold nothin', nor the shepherd nothin', nor the
animals nothin'