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's 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.'

[Picture: The Double Bedded Room, Great White Horse, Ipswich]

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 from 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 e