“We had better consult the waiter, perhaps,” said Mr. Tupman; and the waiter was summoned accordingly.

“Dingley Dell, gentlemen⁠—fifteen miles, gentlemen⁠—cross road⁠—post-chaise, sir?”

“Post-chaise won’t hold more than two,” said Mr. Pickwick.

“True, sir⁠—beg your pardon, sir.⁠—Very nice four-wheel chaise, sir⁠—seat for two behind⁠—one in front for the gentleman that drives⁠—oh! beg your pardon, sir⁠—that’ll only hold three.”

“What’s to be done?” said Mr. Snodgrass.