Mr. Weller was dispelling all the feverish remains of the previous evening's conviviality, . . . when he was attracted by the appearance of a young fellow in mulberry-coloured livery—Chap. xvi.
The door was just going to be closed in consequence, when an inquisitive boarder, who had been peeping between the hinges, set up a fearful screaming—Chap. xvi.
Old Lobbs gave it one tug, and open it flew, disclosing Nathaniel Pipkin standing bolt upright inside, and shaking with apprehension from head to foot—Chap. xvii.
"Who are you, you rascal?" said the captain, administering several pokes to Mr. Pickwick's body with the thick stick. "What's your name?"—Chap. xix.