“Ah,” said the red-haired man, surveying Mr. Weller from head to foot with a supercilious look. “Friend of yours, sir?”

“Not exactly a friend,” replied Mr. Pickwick, in a low tone. “The fact is, he is my servant, but I allow him to take a good many liberties; for, between ourselves, I flatter myself he is an original, and I am rather proud of him.”

“Ah,” said the red-haired man, “that, you see, is a matter of taste. I am not fond of anything original; I don’t like it; don’t see the necessity for it. What’s your name, sir?”

“Here is my card, sir,” replied Mr. Pickwick, much amused by the abruptness of the question, and the singular manner of the stranger.