"Hold hard, Bill," he says.

"Wot, ain't you come home yet, Tventy ?" says the turnkey, "I thought you wos in, long ago." "No, I wasn't," says the little man, with a smile.

"Well, then, I'll tell you wot it is, my friend," says the turnkey, openin' the gate wery slow and sulky, "it's my 'pinion as you've got into bad company o' late, which I'm wery sorry to see.

Now, I don't wish to do nothing harsh," he says, "but if you can't confine yourself to steady circles, and find your vay back at reg'lar hours, as sure as you're a-standin' there, I'll shut you out altogether!" The little man was seized vith a wiolent fit o' tremblin', and never vent outside the prison walls artervards!' As Sam concluded, Mr.Pickwick slowly retraced his steps downstairs.
After a few thoughtful turns in the Painted Ground, which, as it was now dark, was nearly deserted, he intimated to Mr.Weller that he thought it high time for him to withdraw for the night; requesting him to seek a bed in some adjacent public-house, and return early in the morning, to make arrangements for the removal of his master's wardrobe from the George and Vulture.

This request Mr.Samuel Weller prepared to obey, with as good a grace as he could assume, but with a very considerable show of reluctance nevertheless.