“With pleasure,” said Mr. Pickwick; and the stranger took wine, first with him, and then with Mr. Snodgrass, and then with Mr. Tupman, and then with Mr. Winkle, and then with the whole party together, almost as rapidly as he talked.

“Devil of a mess on the staircase, waiter,” said the stranger. “Forms going up⁠—carpenters coming down⁠—lamps, glasses, harps. What’s going forward?”

“Ball, Sir,” said the waiter.

“Assembly, eh?”

“No, Sir, not assembly, Sir. Ball for the benefit of a charity, Sir.”