sir, draw up your chair to the table. I have a good deal to say to you."
"What papers are those?" inquired Mr. Pickwick, as the little man deposited on the table a small bundle of documents tied with red tape.
"The papers in Bardell and Pickwick," replied Perker, undoing the knot with his teeth.
Mr. Pickwick grated the legs of his chair against the ground; and throwing himself into it, folded his hands and looked sternly—if Mr. Pickwick ever could look sternly—at his legal friend. You don't like to hear the name of the cause?" said the little man, still busying himself with the knot.
"No, I do not indeed," replied Mr. Pickwick.
"Sorry for that," resumed Perker, "because it will form the subject of our conversation."
"I would rather that the subject should be never mentioned between us, Perker," interposed Mr. Pickwick, hastily.
"Pooh, pooh, my dear sir," said the little man, untying the bundle, and glancing eagerly at Mr. Pickwick out of the corners of his eyes. "It must be mentioned. I have come here on purpose. Now, are you ready to hear what I have to say, my dear sir? No hurry; if you are not, I can wait. I have this morning's paper here. Your time shall be mine. There!" Hereupon, the little man threw one leg over the other, and made a show of beginning to read with great composure and application.
"Well, well," said Mr. Pickwick, with a sigh, but softening into a smile at the same time. "Say what you have to say; it's the old story, I suppose?"
"With a difference, my dear sir; with a difference," rejoined Perker, deliberately folding up the paper and putting it into his pocket again. "Mrs. Bardell, the plaintiff in the action, is within these walls, sir."
"I know it," was Mr. Pickwick's reply.
"Very good," retorted Perker. "And you know how she
