We are all the victims of circumstances, and I the
greatest.' With this apology Mr. Pickwick buried his head in his
hands, and ruminated; while Wardle measured out a regular
circle of nods and winks, addressed to the other members of
the company.
'I'll have it explained, though,' said Mr. Pickwick, raising his
head and hammering the table. 'I'll see this Dodson and Fogg!
I'll go to London to-morrow.'
'Not to-morrow,' said Wardle; 'you're too lame.'
'Well, then, next day.'
'Next day is the first of September, and you're pledged to ride
out with us, as far as Sir Geoffrey Manning's grounds at all
events, and to meet us at lunch, if you don't take the field.'
'Well, then, the day after,' said Mr. Pickwick; 'Thursday.--Sam!'
'Sir,' replied Mr. Weller.
'Take two places outside to London, on Thursday morning,
for yourself and me.'
'Wery well, Sir.'
Mr. Weller left the room, and departed slowly on his errand,
with his hands in his pocket and his eyes fixed on the ground.
'Rum feller, the hemperor,' said Mr. Weller, as he walked
slowly up the street. 'Think o' his makin' up to that 'ere Mrs.
Bardell--vith a little boy, too! Always the vay vith these here old
'uns howsoever, as is such steady goers to look at.
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