Mr. Pickwick kissed the young ladies--we were
going to say, as if they were his own daughters, only, as he might
possibly have infused a little more warmth into the salutation, the
comparison would not be quite appropriate--hugged the old lady
with filial cordiality; and patted the rosy cheeks of the female
servants in a most patriarchal manner, as he slipped into the
hands of each some more substantial expression of his approval.
The exchange of cordialities with their fine old host and Mr.
Trundle was even more hearty and prolonged; and it was not
until Mr. Snodgrass had been several times called for, and at last
emerged from a dark passage followed soon after by Emily
(whose bright eyes looked unusually dim), that the three friends
were enabled to tear themselves from their friendly entertainers.
Many a backward look they gave at the farm, as they walked
slowly away; and many a kiss did Mr. Snodgrass waft in the air,
in acknowledgment of something very like a lady's handkerchief,
which was waved from one of the upper windows, until a turn of
the lane hid the old house from their sight.
At Muggleton they procured a conveyance to Rochester.
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