‘I don’t know,’ replied Mr. Pickwick pettishly. ‘Take away the boy.’ (Here Mr. Winkle carried the interesting boy, screaming and struggling, to the farther end of the apartment.) ‘Now help me, lead this woman downstairs.’
‘Oh, I am better now,’ said Mrs. Bardell faintly.
‘Let me lead you downstairs,’ said the ever-gallant Mr. Tupman.
‘Thank you, sir—thank you;’ exclaimed Mrs. Bardell hysterically. And downstairs she was led accordingly, accompanied by her affectionate son.
‘I cannot conceive,’ said Mr. Pickwick when his friend returned—‘I cannot conceive what has been the matter with that woman. I had merely announced to her my intention of keeping a man-servant, when she fell into the extraordinary paroxysm in which you found her. Very extraordinary thing.’
‘Very,’ said his three friends.
‘Placed me in such an extremely awkward situation,’ continued Mr. Pickwick.
‘Very,’ was the reply of his followers, as they coughed slightly, and looked dubiously at each other.
This behaviour was not lost upon Mr. Pickwick. He remarked their incredulity. They evidently suspected him.
‘There is a man in the passage now,’ said Mr. Tupman.