“Oh, you kind, good, playful dear,” said Mrs. Bardell; and without more ado, she rose from her chair, and flung her arms round Mr. Pickwick’s neck, with a cataract of tears and a chorus of sobs.

“Bless my soul,” cried the astonished Mr. Pickwick; “ Mrs. Bardell, my good woman⁠—dear me, what a situation⁠—pray consider.⁠— Mrs. Bardell, don’t⁠—if anybody should come⁠—”

“Oh, let them come,” exclaimed Mrs. Bardell frantically; “I’ll never leave you⁠—dear, kind, good soul”; and, with these words, Mrs. Bardell clung the tighter.