Imagine this story told by Miss Witherfield in open court, with all its details, the lady's narrative being coloured by the recollection that she had lost a suitable husband owing to her adventure. Mr. Peter Magnus would have deposed to Mr. Pickwick's extraordinary interest in the matter of the proposal, and have added his suspicions on recalling Mr. Pickwick's ambiguous declaration that he had come down to expose a certain person--even one of his own sympathetic friends, who had witnessed the scene with Mrs. Bardell, and recalled the Boarding House incident, might murmur, "How odd that he is ever thus in pursuit of the fair under suspicious circumstances? _could_ it be that after all?--What if he had some previous knowledge of the lady, and secretly admired her, and stung to fury at the notion of Mr. Peter Magnus marrying, had taken this strange mode of declaring his passion?" Even the sagacious Sam, devoted as he was to his master, was taken aback on meeting him in his midnight wanderings. 'Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, suddenly appearing before him, 'Where's my bedroom?' Mr. Weller stared at his master with the most emphatic surprise; and it was not until the question had been repeated three several times, that he turned round, and led the way to the long-sought apartment. 'Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, as he got into bed, 'I have made one of the most extraordinary mistakes to-night, that ever were heard of.' 'Werry likely, Sir,' replied Mr. Weller, drily. 'But of this I am determined, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'that if I were to stop in this house for six months, I would never trust myself about it alone, again.' 'That's the wery prudentest resolution as you could come to, Sir,' replied Mr. Weller. 'You rayther want somebody to look arter you, Sir, ven your judgment goes out a wisitin'.' 'What do you mean by that, Sam?' said Mr. Pickwick. He raised himself in bed, and extended his hand, as if he were about to say something more; but suddenly checking himself, turned round, and bade his valet 'Good night.' 'Good night, Sir,' replied Mr. Weller. He paused when he got outside the door--shook his head--walked on--stopped--snuffed the candle--shook his head again--and finally proceeded slowly to his chamber, apparently buried in the profoundest meditation. It will be seen that Sam went near to being disrespectful in his sceptical view of his master's story. When Mrs. Sanders was examined, "the Court" put a few questions to her, as to the customs of love-making among persons of her position. She had "received love letters, like other ladies. In the course of their correspondence Mr. Sanders had often called her a 'duck' but never 'chops' or 'tomato sauce.' He was particularly fond of ducks. Perhaps if he had been as fond of chops and tomato sauce, he might have called her that, as a term of affection."