Before Bob could reply, Mr. Ben Allen seized Mr. Pickwick by the hand, and murmured, in sorrowful accents, “My sister, my dear Sir; my sister.”

“Oh, is that all!” said Mr. Pickwick. “We shall easily arrange that matter, I hope. Your sister is safe and well, and I am here, my dear Sir, to⁠—”

“Sorry to do anythin’ as may cause an interruption to such wery pleasant proceedin’s, as the king said wen he dissolved the parliament,” interposed Mr. Weller, who had been peeping through the glass door; “but there’s another experiment here, sir. Here’s a wenerable old lady a⁠—lyin’ on the carpet waitin’ for dissection, or galwinism, or some other rewivin’ and scientific inwention.”