Mr.
Pickwick drew the silk handkerchief once more over his head,
And composed himself for a nap. Mr. Weller promptly walked
forth, to execute his commission.
It was nearly nine o'clock when he reached Goswell Street. A
couple of candles were burning in the little front parlour, and a
couple of caps were reflected on the window-blind. Mrs. Bardell
had got company.
Mr. Weller knocked at the door, and after a pretty long
interval--occupied by the party without, in whistling a tune, and
by the party within, in persuading a refractory flat candle to
allow itself to be lighted--a pair of small boots pattered over the
floor-cloth, and Master Bardell presented himself.
'Well, young townskip,' said Sam, 'how's mother?'
'She's pretty well,' replied Master Bardell, 'so am I.'
'Well, that's a mercy,' said Sam; 'tell her I want to speak to
her, will you, my hinfant fernomenon?'
Master Bardell, thus adjured, placed the refractory flat candle on
the bottom stair, and vanished into the front parlour with his message.
The two caps, reflected on the window-blind, were the respective
head-dresses of a couple of Mrs. Bardell's most particular
acquaintance, who had just stepped in, to have a quiet cup of tea,
and a little warm supper of a couple of sets of pettitoes and some
toasted cheese.
Pages:
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652