“Then, that,” said the man with the campstool, “is an affront to Doctor Slammer, and a sufficient reason for proceeding immediately.”

“Pray be quiet, Payne,” said the doctor’s second. “Why did you not communicate this fact to me this morning, Sir?”

“To be sure⁠—to be sure,” said the man with the campstool indignantly.

“I entreat you to be quiet, Payne,” said the other. “May I repeat my question, Sir?”

“Because, Sir,” replied Mr. Winkle, who had had time to deliberate upon his answer, “because, Sir, you described an intoxicated and ungentlemanly person as wearing a coat which I have the honour, not only to wear but to have invented⁠—the proposed uniform, Sir, of the Pickwick Club in London. The honour of that uniform I feel bound to maintain, and I therefore, without inquiry, accepted the challenge which you offered me.”