These last sounds, so like those in which, as legends inform us, the ferocious giant Blunderbore was in the habit of expressing his opinion that it was time to lay the cloth, were too distinctly audible to be again mistaken for the workings of fancy.

“Gracious Heaven!” said the middle-aged lady, “what’s that?”

“It’s⁠—it’s⁠—only a gentleman, ma’am,” said Mr. Pickwick, from behind the curtains.

“A gentleman!” said the lady, with a terrific scream.

“It’s all over!” thought Mr. Pickwick.

“A strange man!” shrieked the lady. Another instant and the house would be alarmed. Her garments rustled as she rushed towards the door.