“Certainly, my dear,” said Mr. Nupkins. “Muzzle!”
“Your worship.”
“Open the front door.”
“Yes, your worship.”
“Leave the house!” said Mr. Nupkins, waving his hand emphatically.
Jingle smiled, and moved towards the door.
“Stay!” said Mr. Pickwick.
Jingle stopped.
“I might,” said Mr. Pickwick, “have taken a much greater revenge for the treatment I have experienced at your hands, and that of your hypocritical friend there.”
Job Trotter bowed with great politeness, and laid his hand upon his heart.