get away. He therefore resumed his brisk pace, and advanced,
staring straight before him. The most extraordinary thing about the
man was, that he was contorting his face into the most fearful and
astonishing grimaces that ever were beheld. Nature's handiwork never
was disguised with such extraordinary artificial carving, as the man had
overlaid his countenance with in one moment.

'Well!' said Mr. Weller to himself, as the man approached. 'This is wery
odd. I could ha' swore it was him.'

Up came the man, and his face became more frightfully distorted than
ever, as he drew nearer.

'I could take my oath to that 'ere black hair and mulberry suit,' said
Mr. Weller; 'only I never see such a face as that afore.'

As Mr. Weller said this, the man's features assumed an unearthly twinge,
perfectly hideous. He was obliged to pass very near Sam, however, and
the scrutinising glance of that gentleman enabled him to detect, under
all these appalling twists of feature, something too like the small eyes
of Mr. Job Trotter to be easily mistaken.

'Hollo, you Sir!' shouted Sam fiercely.

The stranger stopped.

'Hollo!' repeated Sam, still more gruffly.

The man with the horrible face looked, with the greatest surprise,
up the court, and down the court, and in at the windows of the
houses--everywhere but at Sam Weller--and took another step forward,
when he was brought to again by another shout.

'Hollo, you sir!' said Sam, for the third time.

There was no pretending to mistake where the voice came from now, so the
stranger, having no other resource, at last looked Sam Weller full in
the face.

'It won't do, Job Trotter,' said Sam. 'Come! None o' that 'ere nonsense.
You ain't so wery 'andsome that you can afford to throw avay many o'
your good looks. Bring them 'ere eyes o' yourn back into their proper
places, or I'll knock 'em out of your head. D'ye hear?'

As Mr. Weller appeared fully disposed to act up to the spirit of this
address, Mr. Trotter gradually allowed his face to resume its natural
expression; and then giving a start of joy, exclaimed, 'What do I see?
Mr. Walker!'

'Ah,' replied Sam. 'You're wery glad to see me, ain't you?'

'Glad!' exclaimed Job Trotter; 'oh, Mr. Walker, if you had but known
how I have looked forward to this meeting! It is too much, Mr. Walker;
I cannot bear it, indeed I cannot.' And with these words, Mr. Trotter
burst into a regular inundation of tears, and, flinging his arms around
t