Mr. Lowten and Job Trotter looking very dim and shadowy by the light of a kitchen candle, which the gentleman who condescended to appear in plush shorts and cottons for a quarterly stipend, had, with a becoming contempt for the clerk and all things appertaining to “the office,” placed upon the table.

“Now, Lowten,” said little Mr. Perker, shutting the door, “what’s the matter? No important letter come in a parcel, is there?”

“No, Sir,” replied Lowten. “This is a messenger from Mr. Pickwick, Sir.”

“From Pickwick, eh?” said the little man, turning quickly to Job. “Well, what is it?”

“Dodson and Fogg have taken Mrs. Bardell in execution for her costs, Sir,” said Job.