'His name!' cried Ben Allen. 'His name!'
'Mr. Nathaniel Winkle,' said Mr, Pickwick.
Mr. Benjamin Allen deliberately crushed his spectacles beneath
the heel of his boot, and having picked up the pieces, and put
them into three separate pockets, folded his arms, bit his lips, and
looked in a threatening manner at the bland features of Mr. Pickwick.
'Then it's you, is it, Sir, who have encouraged and brought
about this match?' inquired Mr. Benjamin Allen at length.
'And it's this gentleman's servant, I suppose,' interrupted the
old lady, 'who has been skulking about my house, and
endeavouring to entrap my servants to conspire against their
mistress.--Martin!'
'Well?' said the surly man, coming forward.
'Is that the young man you saw in the lane, whom you told me
about, this morning?'
Mr. Martin, who, as it has already appeared, was a man of few
words, looked at Sam Weller, nodded his head, and growled
forth, 'That's the man.' Mr. Weller, who was never proud, gave
a smile of friendly recognition as his eyes encountered those of
the surly groom, and admitted in courteous terms, that he had
'knowed him afore.'
'And this is the faithful creature,' exclaimed Mr.
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