Pickwick's
recital of old Mr. Winkle's obstinacy.
'Give him a week,' said Perker, nodding his head prophetically.
'Do you think he will come round?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.
'I think he will,' rejoined Perker. 'If not, we must try the
young lady's persuasion; and that is what anybody but you
would have done at first.'
Mr. Perker was taking a pinch of snuff with various grotesque
contractions of countenance, eulogistic of the persuasive powers
appertaining unto young ladies, when the murmur of inquiry
and answer was heard in the outer office, and Lowten tapped at
the door.
'Come in!' cried the little man.
The clerk came in, and shut the door after him, with great mystery.
'What's the matter?' inquired Perker.
'You're wanted, Sir.'
'Who wants me?'
Lowten looked at Mr. Pickwick, and coughed.
'Who wants me? Can't you speak, Mr. Lowten?'
'Why, sir,' replied Lowten, 'it's Dodson; and Fogg is with him.'
'Bless my life!' said the little man, looking at his watch, 'I
appointed them to be here at half-past eleven, to settle that
matter of yours, Pickwick. I gave them an undertaking on which
they sent down your discharge; it's very awkward, my dear
Sir; what will you do? Would you like to step into the next room?'
The next room being the identical room in which Messrs.
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