licacy of feeling. Go on; you are very right.'

'Well, sir, I have been thinking that if you were waiting in the back
garden alone, and I was to let you in, at the door which opens into it,
from the end of the passage, at exactly half-past eleven o'clock, you
would be just in the very moment of time to assist me in frustrating the
designs of this bad man, by whom I have been unfortunately ensnared.'
Here Mr. Trotter sighed deeply.

'Don't distress yourself on that account,' said Mr. Pickwick; 'if he had
one grain of the delicacy of feeling which distinguishes you, humble as
your station is, I should have some hopes of him.'

Job Trotter bowed low; and in spite of Mr. Weller's previous
remonstrance, the tears again rose to his eyes.

'I never see such a feller,' said Sam, 'Blessed if I don't think he's
got a main in his head as is always turned on.'

'Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, with great severity, 'hold your tongue.'

'Wery well, sir,' replied Mr. Weller.

'I don't like this plan,' said Mr. Pickwick, after deep meditation. 'Why
cannot I communicate with the young lady's friends?'

'Because they live one hundred miles from here, sir,' responded Job
Trotter.

'That's a clincher,' said Mr. Weller, aside.

'Then this garden,' resumed Mr. Pickwick. 'How am I to get into it?'

'The wall is very low, sir, and your servant will give you a leg up.'
'My servant will give me a leg up,' repeated Mr. Pickwick mechanically.
'You will be sure to be near this door that you speak of?'

'You cannot mistake it, Sir; it's the only one that opens into the
garden. Tap at it when you hear the clock strike, and I will open it
instantly.'

'I don't like the plan,' said Mr. Pickwick; 'but as I see no other, and
as the happiness of this young lady's whole life is at stake, I adopt
it. I shall be sure to be there.'

Thus, for the second time, did Mr. Pickwick's innate good-feeling
involve him in an enterprise from which he would most willingly have
stood aloof.

'What is the name of the house?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.

'Westgate House, Sir. You turn a little to the right when you get to the
end of the town; it stands by itself, some little distance off the high
road, with the name on a brass plate on the gate.'

'I know it,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'I observed it once before, when I was
in this town. You may depend upon me.'

Mr. Trotter made another bow, and turned to depart, when Mr. Pickwick
thrust a guinea into his hand.

'You'