“Well!” said Wardle. “Here are pretty goings on⁠—a pinch of your snuff, Perker, my boy⁠—never were such times, eh?”

“What do you mean?” inquired Mr. Pickwick.

“Mean!” replied Wardle. “Why, I think the girls are all running mad; that’s no news, you’ll say? Perhaps it’s not; but it’s true, for all that.”

“You have not come up to London, of all places in the world, to tell us that , my dear Sir, have you?” inquired Perker.

“No, not altogether,” replied Wardle; “though it was the main cause of my coming. How’s Arabella?”

“Very well,” replied Mr. Pickwick, “and will be delighted to see you, I am sure.”