'Then, what the devil did you run sharp instruments into
Mr. Pickwick's legs for?' inquired Wardle angrily.
'He wouldn't look at me,' replied the boy. 'I wanted to speak
to him.'
'What did you want to say?' asked half a dozen voices at once.
The fat boy gasped, looked at the bedroom door, gasped
again, and wiped two tears away with the knuckle of each of his
forefingers.
'What did you want to say?' demanded Wardle, shaking him.
'Stop!' said Mr. Pickwick; 'allow me. What did you wish to
communicate to me, my poor boy?'
'I want to whisper to you,' replied the fat boy.
'You want to bite his ear off, I suppose,' said Wardle. 'Don't
come near him; he's vicious; ring the bell, and let him be taken
downstairs.'
Just as Mr. Winkle caught the bell-rope in his hand, it
was arrested by a general expression of astonishment; the
captive lover, his face burning with confusion, suddenly walked
in from the bedroom, and made a comprehensive bow to the company.
'Hollo!' cried Wardle, releasing the fat boy's collar, and
staggering back. 'What's this?'
'I have been concealed in the next room, sir, since you
returned,' explained Mr.
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