"Just a goin' to begin," said Sam, endeavouring to disengage himself.
"Now, sir, start off."

"Stop an instant, Sam," gasped Mr. Winkle, clinging most affectionately
to Mr. Weller. "I find I've a couple of coats at home that I don't want,
Sam. You may have them, Sam."

"Thank'ee, sir," replied Mr. Weller.

"Never mind touching your hat, Sam," said Mr. Winkle, hastily. "You
needn't take your hand away to do that. I meant to have given you five
shillings this morning for a Christmas-box, Sam. I'll give it to you
this afternoon, Sam."

"You're wery good, sir," replied Mr. Weller.

"Just hold me at first, Sam; will you?" said Mr. Winkle. "There--that's
right. I shall soon get into the way of it, Sam. Not too fast, Sam; not
too fast."

Mr. Winkle, stooping forward with his body half doubled up, was being
assisted over the ice by Mr. Weller, in a very singular and un-swan-like
manner, when Mr. Pickwick most innocently shouted from the opposite
bank--

"Sam!"

"Sir?" said Mr. Weller.