“Cold punch,” murmured Mr. Pickwick, as he sank to sleep again.

“What?” demanded Captain Boldwig.

No reply.

“What did he say his name was?” asked the captain.

“Punch, I think, sir,” replied Wilkins.

“That’s his impudence⁠—that’s his confounded impudence,” said Captain Boldwig. “He’s only feigning to be asleep now,” said the captain, in a high passion. “He’s drunk; he’s a drunken plebeian. Wheel him away, Wilkins, wheel him away directly.”

“Where shall I wheel him to, sir?” inquired Wilkins, with great timidity.

“Wheel him to the devil,” replied Captain Boldwig.

“Very well, sir,” said Wilkins.