“Take this little villain away,” said the agonised Mr. Pickwick, “he’s mad.”
“What is the matter?” said the three tongue-tied Pickwickians.
“I don’t know,” replied Mr. Pickwick, pettishly. “Take away the boy” (here Mr. Winkle carried the interesting boy, screaming and struggling, to the further 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.