“Very well,” said old Wardle. “Now the sooner we’re off the better. Will you join us at twelve, then, Pickwick?”

Mr. Pickwick was particularly desirous to view the sport, the more especially as he was rather anxious in respect of Mr. Winkle’s life and limbs. On so inviting a morning, too, it was very tantalising to turn back, and leave his friends to enjoy themselves. It was, therefore, with a very rueful air that he replied⁠—

“Why, I suppose I must.”

“Ain’t the gentleman a shot, Sir?” inquired the long gamekeeper.

“No,” replied Wardle; “and he’s lame besides.”

“I should very much like to go,” said Mr. Pickwick⁠—“very much.”