Whether Mr. Tupman was somewhat indignant at the peremptory tone in which he was desired to pass the wine which the stranger passed so quickly away, or whether he felt very properly scandalised at an influential member of the Pickwick Club being ignominiously compared to a dismounted Bacchus, is a fact not yet completely ascertained. He passed the wine, coughed twice, and looked at the stranger for several seconds with a stern intensity; as that individual, however, appeared perfectly collected, and quite calm under his searching glance, he gradually relaxed, and reverted to the subject of the ball.

“I was about to observe, Sir,” he said, “that though my apparel would be too large, a suit of my friend Mr. Winkle’s would, perhaps, fit you better.”

The stranger took Mr. Winkle’s measure with his eye, and that feature glistened with satisfaction as he said, “Just the thing.”