“The one with the long hair, and the particularly small forehead?” inquired Mr. Pickwick.

“The same. The richest young man in Ba⁠—ath at this moment. Young Lord Mutanhed.”

“You don’t say so?” said Mr. Pickwick.

“Yes. You’ll hear his voice in a moment, Mr. Pickwick. He’ll speak to me. The other gentleman with him, in the red under-waistcoat and dark moustache, is the Honourable Mr. Crushton, his bosom friend. How do you do, my Lord?”

“Veway hot, Bantam,” said his Lordship.