ach-box, by his side.

'Will you permit me to have the pleasure, Sir?' said Mr. Trundle to Mr.
Winkle.

'With great pleasure,' replied Mr. Winkle to Mr. Trundle, and then the
two gentlemen took wine, after which they took a glass of wine round,
ladies and all.

'How dear Emily is flirting with the strange gentleman,' whispered the
spinster aunt, with true spinster-aunt-like envy, to her brother, Mr.
Wardle.

'Oh! I don't know,' said the jolly old gentleman; 'all very natural, I
dare say--nothing unusual. Mr. Pickwick, some wine, Sir?' Mr. Pickwick,
who had been deeply investigating the interior of the pigeon-pie,
readily assented.

'Emily, my dear,' said the spinster aunt, with a patronising air, 'don't
talk so loud, love.'

'Lor, aunt!'

'Aunt and the little old gentleman want to have it all to themselves,
I think,' whispered Miss Isabella Wardle to her sister Emily. The young
ladies laughed very heartily, and the old one tried to look amiable, but
couldn't manage it.

'Young girls have such spirits,' said Miss Wardle to Mr. Tupman, with an
air of gentle commiseration, as if animal spirits were contraband, and
their possession without a permit a high crime and misdemeanour.

'Oh, they have,' replied Mr. Tupman, not exactly making the sort of
reply that was expected from him. 'It's quite delightful.'

'Hem!' said Miss Wardle, rather dubiously.

'Will you permit me?' said Mr. Tupman, in his blandest manner, touching
the enchanting Rachael's wrist with one hand, and gently elevating the
bottle with the other. 'Will you permit me?'

'Oh, sir!' Mr. Tupman looked most impressive; and Rachael expressed her
fear that more guns were going off, in which case, of course, she should
have required support again.

'Do you think my dear nieces pretty?' whispered their affectionate aunt
to Mr. Tupman.

'I should, if their aunt wasn't here,' replied the ready Pickwickian,
with a passionate glance.

'Oh, you naughty man--but really, if their complexions were a
little better, don't you think they would be nice-looking girls--by
candlelight?'

'Yes; I think they would,' said Mr. Tupman, with an air of indifference.

'Oh, you quiz--I know what you were going to say.'

'What?' inquired Mr. Tupman, who had not precisely made up his mind to
say anything at all.

'You were going to say that Isabel stoops--I know you were--you men are
such observers. Well, so she does; it can't be denied; and, certainly,
if there is o