‘So we should,’ replied Bob Sawyer, ‘but the brandy was too good to leave in a hurry; wasn’t it, Ben?’
‘Certainly,’ said Mr. Benjamin Allen; ‘and the cigars were not bad, or the pork-chops either; were they, Bob?’
‘Decidedly not,’ said Bob. The particular friends resumed their attack upon the breakfast, more freely than before, as if the recollection of last night’s supper had imparted a new relish to the meal.
‘Peg away, Bob,’ said Mr. Allen, to his companion, encouragingly.
‘So I do,’ replied Bob Sawyer. And so, to do him justice, he did.
‘Nothing like dissecting, to give one an appetite,’ said Mr. Bob Sawyer, looking round the table.
Mr. Pickwick slightly shuddered.
‘By the bye, Bob,’ said Mr. Allen, ‘have you finished that leg yet?’
‘Nearly,’ replied Sawyer, helping himself to half a fowl as he spoke. ‘It’s a very muscular one for a child’s.’
Is it?’ inquired Mr. Allen carelessly.