542
POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OP
- ' Sir," said Mr. Ben Allen, staring at the old gentleman, through a
pair of very dim and languid eyes, and working his right arm vehemently up and down, " you — you ought to be ashamed of yourself."
" As the lady's brother, of course you are an excellent judge of the question," retorted Blr Winkle, senior. " There ; that's enough. Pray say no more, Mr. Pickwick. Good night, gentlemen."
With these words the old gentleman took up the candlestick, and opening the room door, politely motioned towards the passage.
You will regret this. Sir/' said Mr. Pickwick, setting his teeth close together to keep down his choler ; for he felt how important the effort might prove to his young friend.
" I am at present of a different opinion," calmly replied Mr. Winkle, senior. *' Once again, gentlemen, I wish you a good night."
Mr. Pickwick walked with angry strides into the street. Mr. Bob Sawyer, completely quelled by the decision of the old gentleman's manner, took the same course ; Mr. Ben Allen's hat rolled down the steps immediately afterwards, and Mr. Ben Allen's body followed it directly. The whole party went silent and supperless to bed ; and Mr. Pickwick thought, just before he fell asleep, that if he had known Mr. Winkle, senior, had been quite so much of a man of business, it was extremely probable he might never have waited upon him, on such an errand.
CHAPTER L.
IN WHICH MR. PICKWICK ENCOUNTERS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE, TO WHICH FORTUNATE CIKCUMSTANCE THE READER IS MAINLY INDEBTED FOR MATTER OF THRILLING INTEREST HEREIN SET DOWN, CONCERNING TWO GREAT PUBLIC MEN OF MIGHT AND POWER.
The morning which broke upon Mr. Pickwick's sight at eight o'clock was not at all calculated to elevate his spirits, or to lessen the depression which the unlooked-for result of his embassy inspired. The sky was dark and gloomy, the air damp and raw, the streets wet and sloppy. The smoke hung sluggishly above the chimney-tops as if it lacked the courage to rise, and the rain came slowly and doggedly down as if it had not even the spirit to pour. A game-cock in the stable-^ yard, deprived of every spark of his accustomed animation, balanced himself dismally on one leg in a corner : and a donkey, moping with drooping head under the narrow roof of an outhouse, appeared from his meditative and miserable countenance to be contemplating suicide. In the street, umbrellas were the only things to be seen, and the clicking of pattens and splashing of rain-drops, the only sounds to be heard.
The breakfast was interrupted by very little conversation ; even Mr. Bob Sawyer felt the influence of the weather, and the previous day's excitement. In his own most expressive language, he was " floored/' So was Mr. Ben Allen. So was Mr. Pickwick.
