“Stop in the tearoom. Take your sixpenn’orth. Then lay on hot water, and call it tea. Drink it,” said Mr. Dowler, in a loud voice, directing Mr. Pickwick, who advanced at the head of the little party, with Mrs. Dowler on his arm. Into the tearoom Mr. Pickwick turned; and catching sight of him, Mr. Bantam corkscrewed his way through the crowd and welcomed him with ecstasy.

“My dear Sir, I am highly honoured. Ba⁠—ath is favoured. Mrs. Dowler, you embellish the rooms. I congratulate you on your feathers. Remarkable!”

“Anybody here?” inquired Dowler suspiciously.