ll
pay for both--I call; you spin--first time--woman--woman--bewitching
woman,' and down came the sovereign with the dragon (called by courtesy
a woman) uppermost.

Mr. Tupman rang the bell, purchased the tickets, and ordered chamber
candlesticks. In another quarter of an hour the stranger was completely
arrayed in a full suit of Mr. Nathaniel Winkle's.

'It's a new coat,' said Mr. Tupman, as the stranger surveyed himself
with great complacency in a cheval glass; 'the first that's been made
with our club button,' and he called his companions' attention to the
large gilt button which displayed a bust of Mr. Pickwick in the centre,
and the letters 'P. C.' on either side.

'"P. C."' said the stranger--'queer set out--old fellow's likeness, and
"P. C."--What does "P. C." stand for--Peculiar Coat, eh?'

Mr. Tupman, with rising indignation and great importance, explained the
mystic device.

'Rather short in the waist, ain't it?' said the stranger, screwing
himself round to catch a glimpse in the glass of the waist buttons,
which were half-way up his back. 'Like a general postman's coat--queer
coats those--made by contract--no measuring--mysterious dispensations
of Providence--all the short men get long coats--all the long men short
ones.' Running on in this way, Mr. Tupman's new companion adjusted
his dress, or rather the dress of Mr. Winkle; and, accompanied by Mr.
Tupman, ascended the staircase leading to the ballroom.

'What names, sir?' said the man at the door. Mr. Tracy Tupman was
stepping forward to announce his own titles, when the stranger prevented
him.

'No names at all;' and then he whispered Mr. Tupman, 'names won't
do--not known--very good names in their way, but not great ones--capital
names for a small party, but won't make an impression in public
assemblies--incog. the thing--gentlemen from London--distinguished
foreigners--anything.' The door was thrown open, and Mr. Tracy Tupman
and the stranger entered the ballroom.

It was a long room, with crimson-covered benches, and wax candles in
glass chandeliers. The musicians were securely confined in an elevated
den, and quadrilles were being systematically got through by two or
three sets of dancers. Two card-tables were made up in the adjoining
card-room, and two pair of old ladies, and a corresponding number of
stout gentlemen, were executing whist therein.

The finale concluded, the dancers promenaded the room, and Mr. Tupman
and his companion stat