"More company!" said Mrs. Sanders.
"It's a gentleman," said Mrs. Raddle.
"Well, if it ain't Mr. Jackson, the young man from Dodson and Fogg's!" cried Mrs. Bardell. "Why, gracious! Surely Mr. Pickwick can't have paid the damages."
"Or hoffered marriage!" said Mrs. Cluppins.
"Dear me, how slow the gentleman is," exclaimed Mrs. Rogers: "Why doesn't he make haste?"
As the lady spoke these words, Mr. Jackson turned from the coach where he had been addressing some observations to a shabby man in black leggings, who had just emerged from the vehicle with a thick ash stick in his hand, and made his way to the place where the ladies were seated; winding his hair round the brim of his hat as he came along.
"Is anything the matter? Has anything taken place, Mr. Jackson?" said Mrs. Bardell, eagerly.
"Nothing whatever, ma'am," replied Mr. Jackson. "How de do, ladies? I have to ask pardon, ladies, for intruding—but the law, ladies—the law." With this apology Mr. Jackson smiled, made a comprehensive bow, and gave his hair another wind. Mrs. Rogers whispered Mrs. Raddle that he was really a elegant young man.
"I called in Goswell Street," resumed Jackson, "and hearing that you were here, from the slavey, took a coach and came on. Our people want you down in the city directly, Bardell."
"Lor!" ejaculated that lady, starting at the sudden nature of the communication.
"Yes," said Jackson, biting his lip. "It's very important and pressing business, which can't be postponed on any account. Indeed, Dodson expressly said so to me, and so did Fogg. I've kept the coach on purpose for you to go back in."
"How very strange!" exclaimed Mrs. Bardell.
The ladies agreed that it was very strange, but were unanimously of opinion that it must be very important, or Dodson
