As we were going up-stairs, Mr. Pickwick put on his spectacles, which he had held in his hand hitherto; arranged his neckerchief, smoothed down his waistcoat, and made many other little preparations of that kind which men are accustomed to be mindful of, when they are going among strangers for the first time, and are anxious to impress them pleasantly. Seeing that I smiled, he smiled too, and said that if it had occurred to him before he left home, he would certainly have presented himself in pumps and silk stockings.
‘I would, indeed, my dear sir,’ he said very seriously; ‘I would have shown my respect for the society, by laying aside my gaiters.’
‘You may rest assured,’ said I, ‘that they would have regretted your doing so very much, for they are quite attached to them.’
‘No, really!’ cried Mr. Pickwick, with manifest pleasure. ‘Do you think they care about my gaiters? Do you seriously think that they identify me at all with my gaiters?’
‘I am sure they do,’ I replied.
‘Well, now,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘that is one of the most charming and agreeable circumstances that could possibly have occurred to me!’
I should not have written down this short conversation, but that it developed a slight point in Mr. Pickwick’s character, with which I was not previously acquainted. He has a secret pride in his legs. The manner in which he spoke, and the accompanying glance he bestowed upon his tights, convince me that Mr. Pickwick regards his legs with much innocent vanity.
‘But here are our friends,’ said I, opening the door and taking his arm in mine; ‘let them speak for themselves.—Gentlemen, I present to you Mr. Pickwick.’
Mr. Pickwick and I must have been a good contrast just then. I, leaning quietly on my crutch-stick, with something of a care-worn, patient air; he, having hold of my arm, and bowing in every direction with the most elastic politeness, and an expression of face whose sprightly cheerfulness and good-humour knew no bounds. The difference between us must have been more striking yet, as we advanced towards the table, and the amiable gentleman, adapting his jocund step to my poor tread, had his attention divided between treating my infirmities with the utmost consideration, and affecting to be wholly unconscious that I required any.
I made him personally known to each of my friends in turn. First, to the deaf gentleman, whom he regarded with much interest, and accosted with great frankness and cordiality. He had evidently some vague idea, at the moment, that my friend being deaf must be dumb also; for when the latter opened his lips to express the pleasure it afforded him to know a gentleman of whom he had heard so much, Mr. Pickwick was so extremely disconcerted, that I was obliged to step in to his relief.