'But shake hands, Mr.Weller.' Sam eyed his companion for a few seconds, and then, as if actuated by a sudden impulse, complied with his request.

'How,' said Job Trotter, as they walked away, 'how is your dear, good master?
Oh, he is a worthy gentleman, Mr.Weller! I hope he didn't catch cold, that dreadful night, Sir.' There was a momentary look of deep slyness in Job Trotter's eye, as he said this, which ran a thrill through Mr.Weller's clenched fist, as he burned with a desire to make a demonstration on his ribs.

Sam constrained himself, however, and replied that his master was extremely well.
'Oh, I am so glad,' replied Mr.Trotter; 'is he here ?' 'Is yourn ?' asked Sam, by way of reply.
'Oh, yes, he is here, and I grieve to say, Mr.Weller, he is going on worse than ever.' 'Ah, ah!' said Sam.
'Oh, shocking--terrible!' 'At a boarding-school ?' said Sam.
'No, not at a boarding-school,' replied Job Trotter, with the same sly look which Sam had noticed before; 'not at a boarding-school.' 'At the house with the green gate ?' said Sam, eyeing his companion closely.
'No, no--oh, not there,' replied Job, with a quickness very unusual to him, 'not there.' 'What was you a-doin' there ?' asked Sam, with a sharp glance.

'Got inside the gate by accident, perhaps ?' 'Why, Mr.Weller,' replied Job, 'I don't mind telling you my little secrets, because, you know, we took such a fancy for each other when we first met.

You recollect how pleasant we were that morning ?' 'Oh, yes,' said Sam, impatiently.