“Cert’nly, sir,” replied Sam, who had answered Wardle’s violent ringing of the bell with a degree of celerity which must have appeared marvellous to anybody who didn’t know that his eye had been applied to the outside of the keyhole during the whole interview.
“Get on your bonnet,” repeated Wardle.
“Do nothing of the kind,” said Jingle. “Leave the room, sir—no business here—lady’s free to act as she pleases—more than one-and-twenty.”
“More than one-and-twenty!” ejaculated Wardle, contemptuously. “More than one-and-forty!”
“I an’t,” said the spinster aunt, her indignation getting the better of her determination to faint.
“You are,” replied Wardle, “you’re fifty if you’re an hour.”
Here the spinster aunt uttered a loud shriek, and became senseless.
“A glass of water,” said the humane Mr. Pickwick, summoning the landlady.