At three o’clock that afternoon, Mr. Pickwick took a last look at his little room, and made his way, as well as he could, through the throng of debtors who pressed eagerly forward to shake him by the hand, until he reached the lodge steps. He turned here, to look about him, and his eye lightened as he did so. In all the crowd of wan, emaciated faces, he saw not one which was not happier for his sympathy and charity.

“Perker,” said Mr. Pickwick, beckoning one young man towards him, “this is Mr. Jingle, whom I spoke to you about.”

“Very good, my dear Sir,” replied Perker, looking hard at Jingle. “You will see me again, young man, tomorrow. I hope you may live to remember and feel deeply, what I shall have to communicate, Sir.”