“Well,” said the clerk, “what message have you brought?”
“He’s down-stairs,” rejoined the boy.
“Who?”
“Master. He wants to know whether you’re at home.”
Mr. Lowten bethought himself, at this juncture, of looking out of the window. Seeing an open carriage with a hearty old gentleman in it, looking up very anxiously, he ventured to beckon him; on which, the old gentleman jumped out directly.
“That’s your master in the carriage, I suppose?” said Lowten.
The boy nodded.
All further inquiries were superseded by the appearance of old Wardle, who, running up-stairs and just recognising Lowten, passed at once into Mr. Perker’s room.
“Pickwick!” said the old gentleman. “Your hand, my boy! Why have I never heard until the day before yesterday of your suffering yourself to be cooped up in jail? And why did you let him do it, Perker?”
“I couldn’t help it, my dear sir,” replied Perker, with a smile and a pinch of snuff: “you know how obstinate he is.”