Page:The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club.djvu/268

206 206 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF

" 'J"otber'6 a black-haired chap in mulberry livery, with a vvery'large head?"

" Yes, yes, he is," said Mr. Pickwick and Sam, with great earnest- ness.

" Then I know where they are, and that's all about it," said lyir Weiler; " they're at Ipswich, safe enough, them two." • ^j^uu.


 * " No ! " said Mr. Pickwick.

" Fact," said Mr. Weiler, " and I'll tell you how I know it. I work an Ipswich coach now and then for a friend o' mine. I worked down the wery day arter the night as you caught the rheumatiz, and at the Black Boy at Chelmsford — the wery place they'd come to — I took 'em up, right through to Ipswich, where the man servant — him in the mulberries — told me they was a goin' to put up for a long time."

" I'll follow him," said Mr. Pickwick ; " we may as well see Ipswich as any other place. I'll follow him."

" You're quite certain it was them, governor ? " inquired Mr. Weiler, junior.

wery sing'ler ; besides that 'ere, I wondered to see the gen'lm'n so familiar with his servant ; and, more than that, as they sat in front, right behind the box, I heard 'em laughing, and saying how they'd done old Fireworks."
 * • Quite, Sammy, quite," replied his father, " for their appearance is

"Old who?" said Mr. Pickwick.


 * ' Old Fireworks, Sir, by which, I've no doubt, they meant you. Sir."

There is nothing positively vile or atrocious in the appellation of " old Fireworks," but still it is by no means a respectful or flattering designation. The recollection of all the wrongs he had sustained at Jingle's hands, had crowded on Mr. Pickwick's mind, the moment Mr. Weiler began to speak : it wanted but a feather to turn the scale, and
 * ' old Fireworks" did it.

table.
 * ' I'll follow him," said Mr. Pickwick, with an emphatic blow on the

Mr. Weiler the elder, " from the Bull in Whitechapel ; and if you really mean to go, you'd better go with me."
 * ' I shall work down to Ipswich the day arter to-morrow, Sir," said

" So we had," said Mr. Pickwick ; " very true ; I can write to Bury, and tell them to meet me at Ipswich. We will go with you. But don't hurry away, Mr. Weiler; won't you take anything?"

" You're wery good. Sir," replied Mr. W., stopping short — " perhaps a small glass of brandy to drink your health, and success to Sammy, Sir, wouldn't be amiss."

" Certainly not," replied Mr. Pickwick. '* A glass of brandy here."

The brandy was brought : and Mr. Weiler, after pulling his hair to Mr. Pickwick, and nodding to Sam, jerked it down his capacious throat as if it had been a small thimble-full.

" Well done, father," said Sam, <* take care, old fellow, or you'll! have a touch of^ your old complaint, the gout."

setting down the glass.
 * ' I've found a sov'rin' cure for that, Sammy," replied Mr. Weiler,'