ene was rendered perfectly visible by the grey light of the
morning.

'Hollo!' shouted the shameless Jingle, 'anybody damaged?--elderly
gentlemen--no light weights--dangerous work--very.'

'You're a rascal,' roared Wardle.

'Ha! ha!' replied Jingle; and then he added, with a knowing wink, and a
jerk of the thumb towards the interior of the chaise--'I say--she's very
well--desires her compliments--begs you won't trouble yourself--love to
TUPPY--won't you get up behind?--drive on, boys.'

The postillions resumed their proper attitudes, and away rattled the
chaise, Mr. Jingle fluttering in derision a white handkerchief from the
coach window.

Nothing in the whole adventure, not even the upset, had disturbed
the calm and equable current of Mr. Pickwick's temper. The villainy,
however, which could first borrow money of his faithful follower, and
then abbreviate his name to 'Tuppy,' was more than he could patiently
bear. He drew his breath hard, and coloured up to the very tips of his
spectacles, as he said, slowly and emphatically--

'If ever I meet that man again, I'll--'

'Yes, yes,' interrupted Wardle, 'that's all very well; but while
we stand talking here, they'll get their licence, and be married in
London.'

Mr. Pickwick paused, bottled up his vengeance, and corked it down. 'How
far is it to the next stage?' inquired Mr. Wardle, of one of the boys.

'Six mile, ain't it, Tom?'

'Rayther better.'

'Rayther better nor six mile, Sir.'

'Can't be helped,' said Wardle, 'we must walk it, Pickwick.'

'No help for it,' replied that truly great man.

So sending forward one of the boys on horseback, to procure a fresh
chaise and horses, and leaving the other behind to take care of the
broken one, Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Wardle set manfully forward on the
walk, first tying their shawls round their necks, and slouching down
their hats to escape as much as possible from the deluge of rain, which
after a slight cessation had again begun to pour heavily down.

CHAPTER X. CLEARING UP ALL DOUBTS (IF ANY EXISTED) OF THE
DISINTERESTEDNESS OF Mr. A. JINGLE'S CHARACTER

There are in London several old inns, once the headquarters of
celebrated coaches in the days when coaches performed their journeys in
a graver and more solemn manner than they do in these times; but
which have now degenerated into little more than the abiding and
booking-places of country wagons. The reader would look in vain for
any of these ancient