'Where's my servant?
Where are my friends?'
'You ain't got no friends. Hurrah!' Then there came a turnip,
then a potato, and then an egg; with a few other little tokens of
the playful disposition of the many-headed.
How long this scene might have lasted, or how much Mr.
Pickwick might have suffered, no one can tell, had not a carriage,
which was driving swiftly by, suddenly pulled up, from whence
there descended old Wardle and Sam Weller, the former of
whom, in far less time than it takes to write it, if not to read it,
had made his way to Mr. Pickwick's side, and placed him in the
vehicle, just as the latter had concluded the third and last round
of a single combat with the town-beadle.
'Run to the justice's!' cried a dozen voices.
'Ah, run avay,' said Mr. Weller, jumping up on the box. 'Give
my compliments--Mr. Veller's compliments--to the justice, and
tell him I've spiled his beadle, and that, if he'll swear in a new 'un,
I'll come back again to-morrow and spile him. Drive on, old feller.'
'I'll give directions for the commencement of an action for false
imprisonment against this Captain Boldwig, directly I get to
London,' said Mr.
Pages:
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480