Mr. Pickwick was regarding the chemist with feelings of the deepest horror when Mrs. Bardell, supported by her friend, Mrs. Cluppins, was led into court.

Then Sergeant Buzfuz opened the case for the plaintiff, and when he had finished Elizabeth Cluppins was called.

“Do you recollect, Mrs. Cluppins,” said Sergeant Buzfuz, “do you recollect being in Mrs. Bardell’s back room on one particular morning last July, when she was dusting Pickwick’s apartment?”

“Yes, my lord and jury, I do,” replied Mrs. Cluppins.

“What were you doing in the back room, ma’am?” inquired the little judge.

“My lord and jury,” said Mrs. Cluppins, “I will not deceive you.”

“You had better not, ma’am,” said the little judge.

“I was there,” resumed Mrs. Cluppins, “unbeknown to Mrs. Bardell; I had been out with a little basket, gentlemen, to buy three pounds of red kidney pertaties, which was tuppence ha’penny, when I see Mrs. Bardell’s street-door on the jar.”

“On the what?” exclaimed the little judge.

“Partly open, my lord.”

“She said on the jar,” said the little judge, with a cunning look.

“I walked in, gentlemen, just to say good mornin’, and went in a permiscuous manner upstairs, and into the back room.  There was a sound of voices in the front room, very loud, and forced themselves upon my ear.”

Mrs. Cluppins then related the conversation we have already heard between Mr. Pickwick and Mrs. Bardell.

The next witness was Mr. Winkle, and after him came Mr. Tupman, and Mr. Snodgrass, all of whom appeared on subpoena by the plaintiff’s lawyers.

Sergeant Buzfuz then rose and said, with considerable importance, “Call Samuel Weller.”

It was quite unnecessary to call him, for Samuel Weller stepped briskly into the box the instant his name was pronounced.

“What’s your name, sir?” inquired the judge.

“Sam Weller, my lord.”

“Do you spell it with a ’V or a ’W?” inquired the judge.

“That depends upon the taste and fancy of the speller, my lord,” replied Sam, “but I spells it with a ‘V.’”

Here a voice in the gallery exclaimed aloud, “Quite right, too, Samuel; quite right.  Put it down a we, my lord, put it down a we.”

“Who is that that dares to address the court?” said the little judge, looking up.

“I rayther suspect it was my father, my lord,” replied Sam.

“Do you see him here now?” said the judge.

“No, I don’t my lord,” replied Sam, staring right up in the roof of the court.

“If you could have pointed him out, I would have committed him instantly,” said the judge.

Sam bowed his acknowledgments.

“Now, Mr. Weller,” said Sergeant Buzfuz, “I believe you are in the service of Mr. Pickwick; speak up, if you please.”

“I mean to speak up, sir,” replied Sam.  “I am in the service o’ that ’ere gen’l’man, and a wery good service it is.”