hat room, it was quite clear
that she contemplated remaining there for the night; for she had brought
a rushlight and shade with her, which, with praiseworthy precaution
against fire, she had stationed in a basin on the floor, where it was
glimmering away, like a gigantic lighthouse in a particularly small
piece of water.

'Bless my soul!' thought Mr. Pickwick, 'what a dreadful thing!'

'Hem!' said the lady; and in went Mr. Pickwick's head with
automaton-like rapidity.

'I never met with anything so awful as this,' thought poor Mr. Pickwick,
the cold perspiration starting in drops upon his nightcap. 'Never. This
is fearful.'

It was quite impossible to resist the urgent desire to see what was
going forward. So out went Mr. Pickwick's head again. The prospect was
worse than before. The middle-aged lady had finished arranging her hair;
had carefully enveloped it in a muslin nightcap with a small plaited
border; and was gazing pensively on the fire.

'This matter is growing alarming,' reasoned Mr. Pickwick with himself.
'I can't allow things to go on in this way. By the self-possession of
that lady, it is clear to me that I must have come into the wrong
room. If I call out she'll alarm the house; but if I remain here the
consequences will be still more frightful.' Mr. Pickwick, it is quite
unnecessary to say, was one of the most modest and delicate-minded of
mortals. The very idea of exhibiting his nightcap to a lady overpowered
him, but he had tied those confounded strings in a knot, and, do what
he would, he couldn't get it off. The disclosure must be made. There
was only one other way of doing it. He shrunk behind the curtains, and
called out very loudly--

'Ha-hum!'

That the lady started at this unexpected sound was evident, by her
falling up against the rushlight shade; that she persuaded herself it
must have been the effect of imagination was equally clear, for when Mr.
Pickwick, under the impression that she had fainted away stone-dead with
fright, ventured to peep out again, she was gazing pensively on the fire
as before.

'Most extraordinary female this,' thought Mr. Pickwick, popping in
again. 'Ha-hum!'

These last sounds, so like those in which, as legends inform us, the
ferocious giant Blunderbore was in the habit of expressing his opinion
that it was time to lay the cloth, were too distinctly audible to be
again mistaken for the workings of fancy.

'Gracious Heaven!' said the middle-aged lady, '