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In which Mr. Samuel Weller begins to devote his Energies to the Return Match between himself and Mr.

           

           ‘Whatwasyoua-doin’there?’askedSam,withasharpglance.‘Gotinsidethegatebyaccident,perhaps?’

           ‘Why,Mr.Weller,’repliedJob,‘Idon’tmindtellingyoumylittlesecrets,because,youknow,wetooksuchafancyforeachotherwhenwefirstmet.Yourecollecthowpleasantwewerethatmorning?’

           ‘Oh,yes,’saidSam,impatiently.‘Iremember.Well?’

           ‘Well,’repliedJob,speakingwithgreatprecision,andinthelowtoneofamanwhocommunicatesanimportantsecret;‘inthathousewiththegreengate,Mr.Weller,theykeepagoodmanyservants.’

           ‘SoIshouldthink,fromthelookonit,’interposedSam.

           ‘Yes,’continuedMr.Trotter,‘andoneofthemisacook,whohassavedupalittlemoney,Mr.Weller,andisdesirous,ifshecanestablishherselfinlife,toopenalittleshopinthechandleryway,yousee.’‘Yes.’

           ‘Yes,Mr.Weller.Well,Sir,ImetheratachapelthatIgoto;averyneatlittlechapelinthistown,Mr.Weller,wheretheysingthenumberfourcollectionofhymns,whichIgenerallycarryaboutwithme,inalittlebook,whichyoumayperhapshaveseeninmyhandandIgotalittleintimatewithher,Mr.Weller,andfromthat,anacquaintancesprungupbetweenus,andImayventuretosay,Mr.Weller,thatIamtobethechandler.

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