166 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF
garden. Tap at it, when you hear the clock strike, and I will open ic instantly."
- I don't like the plan," said Mr. Pickwick ; '* but as I see no other
and as the happiness of this young lady's whole life is at stake, I adopt it. I shall be sure to be there."
Thus, for the second time, did Mr. Pickwick's innate good-feeling involve him in an enterprise, from which he would most willingly have stood aloof.
" What is the name of the house ? " inquired Mr. Pickwick.
" Westgate House, Sir. You turn a little to the right when you get to the end of the town ; it stands by itself, some little distance off the high road, with the name on a brass plate on the gate."
" I know it," said Mr. Pickwick. *' I observed it once before, when I was in this town. You may depend upon me."
Mr. Trotter made another bow, and turned to depart, when Mr. Pickwick thrust a guinea into his hand.
" You're a fine fellow," said Mr. Pickwick, " and I admire your goodness of heart. No thanks. Remember— eleven o'clock."
" There is no fear of my forgetting it. Sir," replied Job Trotter. With these words he left the room, followed by Sam.
- ' I say," said the latter, " not a bad notion that 'ere crying. Pd cry
like a rain-water spout in a shower, on such good terms. How do you doit?"
" It comes from the heart, Mr. Walker," replied Job solemnly. " Good morning, Sir."
" You're a soft customer, you are ; — we've got it all out o' you, any how' ' thought Mr. Weller, as Job walked away.
We cannot state the precise nature of the thoughts which passed through Mr. Trotter's mind, because we don't know what they were.
The day wore on, evening came, and at a little before ten o'clock Sam Weller reported that Mr. Jingle and Job had gone out together, that their luggage was packed up, and that they had ordered a chaise, '^he plot was evidently in execution, as Mr. Trotter had foretold.
Half-past ten o'clock arrived, and it was time for Mr. Pickwick to issue forth on his delicate errand. Resisting Sam's tender of his great coat, in order that he might hav€ no incumbrance in scaling the wail, he set forth, followed by his attendant.
There was a bright moon, but it was behind the clouds. It was a fine dry night, but it was most uncommonly dark. Paths, hedges, fields, houses, and trees, were enveloped in one deep^hade. The atmo- sphere was hot and sultry, the summer lightning quivered faintly on the verge of the horizon, and was the only sight that varied the dull gloom m which every thing was wrapped — sound there was none, except the distant barking of some restless house-dog.
They found the house, read the brass-plate, walked round the wail; and stopped at that portion of it which divided them from the bottom of the gardeu.
" You will return to the iun, Sam, when you have assisted tne over," said Mr. Pickwick.
