“Yes, of course you did,” said Mrs. Raddle, backing gradually to the door, and raising her voice to its loudest pitch, for the special behoof of Mr. Raddle in the kitchen. “Yes, of course you did! And everybody knows that they may safely insult me in my own ’ouse while my husband sits sleeping down-stairs, and taking no more notice than if I was a dog in the streets. He ought to be ashamed of himself (here Mrs. Raddle sobbed) to allow his wife to be treated in this way by a parcel of young cutters and carvers of live people’s bodies, that disgraces the lodgings (another sob), and leaving her exposed to all manner of abuse; a base, faint-hearted, timorous wretch, that’s afraid to come up-stairs, and face the ruffinly creatures—that’s afraid—that’s afraid to come!” Mrs. Raddle paused to listen whether the repetition of the taunt had roused her better half; and, finding that it had not been successful, proceeded to descend the stairs with sobs innumerable: when there came a loud double knock at the street door: whereupon she burst into an hysterical fit of weeping, accompanied with dismal moans, which was prolonged until the knock had been repeated six times, when, in an uncontrollable burst of mental agony, she threw down all the umbrellas, and disappeared into the back parlour, closing the door after her with an awful crash.
“Does Mr. Sawyer live here?” said Mr. Pickwick, when the door was opened.
“Yes,” said the girl, “first floor. It’s the door straight afore you when you gets to the top of the stairs.” Having given this instruction, the handmaid, who had been brought up among the aboriginal inhabitants of Southwark, disappeared, with the candle in her hand, down the kitchen stairs: perfectly satisfied that she had done everything that could possibly be required of her under the circumstances.
Mr. Snodgrass, who entered last, secured the street door, after several ineffectual efforts, by putting up the chain; and the friends stumbled up-stairs, where they were received by Mr. Bob Sawyer, who had been afraid to go down, lest he should be waylaid by Mrs. Raddle.
“How are you?” said the discomfited student. “Glad to see you,—take care of the glasses.” This caution was addressed to Mr. Pickwick, who had put his hat in the tray.
“Dear me,” said Mr. Pickwick, “I beg your pardon.”
“Don’t mention it, don’t mention it,” said Bob Sawyer. “I’m rather confined for room here, but you must put up with all that, when you come to see a young bachelor. Walk in. You’ve seen this gentleman before, I think?” Mr. Pickwick shook hands with Mr. Benjamin Allen, and his friends followed his example. They had scarcely taken their seats when there was another double knock.
“I hope that’s Jack Hopkins!” said Mr. Bob Sawyer. “Hush! Yes, it is. Come up, Jack; come up.”
A heavy footstep was heard upon the stairs, and Jack Hopkins presented himself. He wore a black velvet waistcoat, with thunder-and-lightning buttons; and a blue striped shirt, with a white false collar.
“You’re late, Jack,” said Mr. Benjamin Allen.