"What the devil do you knock in that way for?" inquired the clerk, angrily.
"Which way?" said the boy, in a slow and sleepy voice.
"Why, like forty hackney-coachmen," replied the clerk.
"Because master said, I wasn't to leave off knocking till they opened the door, for fear I should go to sleep," said the boy.
"Well," said the clerk, "what message have you brought?"
"He's down stairs," rejoined the boy.
"Who?"
"Master. He wants to know whether you're at home."
Mr. Lowten bethought himself, at this juncture, of looking out of the window. Seeing an open carriage with a hearty old gentleman in it, looking up very anxiously, he ventured to beckon him; on which, the old gentleman jumped out directly.
"That's your master in the carriage, I suppose?" said Lowten.
The boy nodded.
All further inquiries were superseded by the appearance of old Wardle, who, running up stairs, and just recognising Lowten, passed at once into Mr. Perker's room.
"Pickwick!" said the old gentleman. "Your hand, my boy! Why have I never heard until the day before yesterday of your suffering yourself to be cooped up in jail? And why did you let him do it, Perker?"
"I couldn't help it, my dear sir," replied Perker, with a smile and a pinch of snuff: "you know how obstinate he is."
"Of course I do, of course I do," replied the old gentleman. "I am heartily glad to see him, notwithstanding. I will not lose sight of him again, in a hurry."
With these words, Wardle shook Mr. Pickwick's hand once more, and, having done the same by Perker, threw himself into an arm-chair; his jolly red face shining again with smiles and health.
"Well!" said Wardle. "Here are pretty goings on—a
