“Mrs. Pott’s going,” were the first words with which he saluted his leader.
“Is she?” said Mr. Pickwick.
“As Apollo,” replied Mr. Winkle. “Only Pott objects to the tunic.”
“He is right. He is quite right,” said Mr. Pickwick, emphatically.
“Yes;—so she’s going to wear a white satin gown with gold spangles.”
“They’ll hardly know what she’s meant for; will they?” inquired Mr. Snodgrass.
“Of course they will,” replied Mr. Winkle, indignantly. “They’ll see her lyre, won’t they?”
“True; I forgot that,” said Mr. Snodgrass.
“I shall go as a bandit,” interposed Mr. Tupman.