Mrs. Leo Hunter.
The Den. Eatanswill.
“Person’s a waitin’,” said Sam, epigrammatically.
“Does the person want me, Sam?” inquired Mr. Pickwick.
“He wants you particklar; and no one else’ll do, as the Devil’s private secretary said ven he fetched avay Doctor Faustus,” replied Mr. Weller.
“He. Is it a gentleman?” said Mr. Pickwick.
“A wery good imitation o’ one, if it an’t,” replied Mr. Weller.
“But this is a lady’s card,” said Mr. Pickwick.
“Given me by a gen’lm’n, hows’ever,” replied Sam, “and he’s a waitin’ in the drawing-room—said he’d rather wait all day, than not see you.”
Mr. Pickwick, on hearing this determination, descended to the drawing-room, where sat a grave man, who started up on his entrance, and said, with an air of profound respect: