The basket having been repacked, and it being found perfectly
impossible to awaken Mr. Pickwick from his torpor, some
discussion took place whether it would be better for Mr. Weller to
wheel his master back again, or to leave him where he was, until
they should all be ready to return. The latter course was at
length decided on; and as the further expedition was not to
exceed an hour's duration, and as Mr. Weller begged very hard
to be one of the party, it was determined to leave Mr. Pickwick
asleep in the barrow, and to call for him on their return. So
away they went, leaving Mr. Pickwick snoring most comfortably
in the shade.
That Mr. Pickwick would have continued to snore in the shade
until his friends came back, or, in default thereof, until the shades
of evening had fallen on the landscape, there appears no reasonable
cause to doubt; always supposing that he had been suffered
to remain there in peace. But he was NOT suffered to remain there
in peace. And this was what prevented him.
Captain Boldwig was a little fierce man in a stiff black neckerchief
and blue surtout, who, when he did condescend to walk
about his property, did it in company with a thick rattan stick
with a brass ferrule, and a gardener and sub-gardener with meek
faces, to whom (the gardeners, not the stick) Captain Boldwig
gave his orders with all due grandeur and ferocity; for Captain
Boldwig's wife's sister had married a marquis, and the captain's
house was a villa, and his land 'grounds,' and it was all very high,
and mighty, and great.
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