the house, which
the young couple were to tenant, after the Christmas holidays; at which
communication Bella and Trundle both coloured up, as red as the fat boy
after the taproom fire; and the young lady with the black eyes and
the fur round the boots, whispered something in Emily's ear, and then
glanced archly at Mr. Snodgrass; to which Emily responded that she was
a foolish girl, but turned very red, notwithstanding; and Mr. Snodgrass,
who was as modest as all great geniuses usually are, felt the crimson
rising to the crown of his head, and devoutly wished, in the inmost
recesses of his own heart, that the young lady aforesaid, with her black
eyes, and her archness, and her boots with the fur round the top, were
all comfortably deposited in the adjacent county.

But if they were social and happy outside the house, what was the warmth
and cordiality of their reception when they reached the farm! The
very servants grinned with pleasure at sight of Mr. Pickwick; and
Emma bestowed a half-demure, half-impudent, and all-pretty look of
recognition, on Mr. Tupman, which was enough to make the statue of
Bonaparte in the passage, unfold his arms, and clasp her within them.

The old lady was seated with customary state in the front parlour, but
she was rather cross, and, by consequence, most particularly deaf. She
never went out herself, and like a great many other old ladies of the
same stamp, she was apt to consider it an act of domestic treason, if
anybody else took the liberty of doing what she couldn't. So, bless
her old soul, she sat as upright as she could, in her great chair, and
looked as fierce as might be--and that was benevolent after all.

'Mother,' said Wardle, 'Mr. Pickwick. You recollect him?'

'Never mind,' replied the old lady, with great dignity. 'Don't trouble
Mr. Pickwick about an old creetur like me. Nobody cares about me now,
and it's very nat'ral they shouldn't.' Here the old lady tossed her
head, and smoothed down her lavender-coloured silk dress with trembling
hands. 'Come, come, ma'am,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'I can't let you cut an
old friend in this way. I have come down expressly to have a long talk,
and another rubber with you; and we'll show these boys and girls how to
dance a minuet, before they're eight-and-forty hours older.'

The old lady was rapidly giving way, but she did not like to do it all
at once; so she only said, 'Ah! I can't hear him!'

'Nonsense, mother,' said Wardle. 'Come, come,