“Mr. Pickwick, mother,” said Mr. Wardle, at the very top of his voice.
“Ah!” said the old lady, shaking her head, “I can’t hear you.”
“Mr. Pickwick, grandma!” screamed both the young ladies together.
“Ah!” exclaimed the old lady. “Well; it don’t much matter. He don’t care for an old ’ooman like me, I dare say.”
“I assure you, ma’am,” said Mr. Pickwick, grasping the old lady’s hand, and speaking so loud that the exertion imparted a crimson hue to his benevolent countenance, “I assure you, ma’am, that nothing delights me more than to see a lady of your time of life heading so fine a family, and looking so young and well.”
“Ah!” said the old lady, after a short pause. “It’s all very fine, I dare say; but I can’t hear him.”
“Grandma’s rather put out now,” said Miss Isabella Wardle, in a low tone; “but she’ll talk to you presently.”
Mr. Pickwick nodded his readiness to humour the infirmities of age, and entered into a general conversation with the other members of the circle.
“Delightful situation this,” said Mr. Pickwick.
“Delightful!” echoed Messrs. Snodgrass, Tupman, and Winkle.