'

'Will you allow me to ask you,' said the inquisitive old gentleman,
'what became of the chair?'

'Why,' replied the one-eyed bagman, 'it was observed to creak very
much on the day of the wedding; but Tom Smart couldn't say for certain
whether it was with pleasure or bodily infirmity. He rather thought it
was the latter, though, for it never spoke afterwards.'

'Everybody believed the story, didn't they?' said the dirty-faced man,
refilling his pipe.

'Except Tom's enemies,' replied the bagman. 'Some of 'em said Tom
invented it altogether; and others said he was drunk and fancied it,
and got hold of the wrong trousers by mistake before he went to bed. But
nobody ever minded what THEY said.'

'Tom Smart said it was all true?'

'Every word.'

'And your uncle?'

'Every letter.'

'They must have been very nice men, both of 'em,' said the dirty-faced
man.

'Yes, they were,' replied the bagman; 'very nice men indeed!'

CHAPTER XV. IN WHICH IS GIVEN A FAITHFUL PORTRAITURE OF TWO
DISTINGUISHED PERSONS; AND AN ACCURATE DESCRIPTION OF A PUBLIC BREAKFAST
IN THEIR HOUSE AND GROUNDS: WHICH PUBLIC BREAKFAST LEADS TO THE
RECOGNITION OF AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE, AND THE COMMENCEMENT OF ANOTHER
CHAPTER

Mr. Pickwick's conscience had been somewhat reproaching him for his
recent neglect of his friends at the Peacock; and he was just on the
point of walking forth in quest of them, on the third morning after the
election had terminated, when his faithful valet put into his hand a
card, on which was engraved the following inscription:--

Mrs. Leo Hunter
THE DEN. EATANSWILL.

'Person's a-waitin',' said Sam, epigrammatically.

'Does the person want me, Sam?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.

'He wants you partickler; and no one else 'll do, as the devil's private
secretary said ven he fetched avay Doctor Faustus,' replied Mr. Weller.

'HE. Is it a gentleman?' said Mr. Pickwick.

'A wery good imitation o' one, if it ain't,' replied Mr. Weller.

'But this is a lady's card,' said Mr. Pickwick.

'Given me by a gen'l'm'n, howsoever,' replied Sam, 'and he's a-waitin'
in the drawing-room--said he'd rather wait all day, than not see you.'

Mr. Pickwick, on hearing this determination, descended to the
drawing-room, where sat a grave man, who started up on his entrance, and
said, with an air of profound respect:--

'Mr. Pickwick, I presume?'

'The same.'

'Allow me, Sir, the honour of grasping your hand. Permit me,