But if they were social and happy outside the house, what was
the warmth and cordiality of their reception when they reached
the farm! The very servants grinned with pleasure at sight of
Mr. Pickwick; and Emma bestowed a half-demure, half-impudent,
and all-pretty look of recognition, on Mr. Tupman,
which was enough to make the statue of Bonaparte in the
passage, unfold his arms, and clasp her within them.
The old lady was seated with customary state in the front
parlour, but she was rather cross, and, by consequence, most
particularly deaf. She never went out herself, and like a great
many other old ladies of the same stamp, she was apt to consider
it an act of domestic treason, if anybody else took the liberty of
doing what she couldn't. So, bless her old soul, she sat as upright
as she could, in her great chair, and looked as fierce as might be
--and that was benevolent after all.
'Mother,' said Wardle, 'Mr. Pickwick. You recollect him?'
'Never mind,' replied the old lady, with great dignity. 'Don't
trouble Mr. Pickwick about an old creetur like me. Nobody cares
about me now, and it's very nat'ral they shouldn't.
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