Pickwick's comprehensive mind was aroused
from the state of unconsciousness, in which slumber had plunged
it, by a loud knocking at his chamber door.
'Who's there?' said Mr. Pickwick, starting up in bed.
'Boots, sir.'
'What do you want?'
'Please, sir, can you tell me which gentleman of your party
wears a bright blue dress-coat, with a gilt button with "P. C."
on it?'
'It's been given out to brush,' thought Mr. Pickwick, 'and the
man has forgotten whom it belongs to.' 'Mr. Winkle,'he called
out, 'next room but two, on the right hand.'
'Thank'ee, sir,' said the Boots, and away he went.
'What's the matter?' cried Mr. Tupman, as a loud knocking at
his door roused hint from his oblivious repose.
'Can I speak to Mr. Winkle, sir?' replied Boots from the outside.
'Winkle--Winkle!' shouted Mr. Tupman, calling into the
inner room.
'Hollo!' replied a faint voice from within the bed-clothes.
'You're wanted--some one at the door;' and, having exerted
himself to articulate thus much, Mr. Tracy Tupman turned
round and fell fast asleep again.
'Wanted!' said Mr. Winkle, hastily jumping out of bed, and
putting on a few articles of clothing; 'wanted! at this distance
from town--who on earth can want me?'
'Gentleman in the coffee-room, sir,' replied the Boots, as
Mr.
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