“I hope not,” said Mr. Pott, actuated, as he spoke, by a wish that his visitor would choke himself with the morsel of dry toast which he was raising to his lips at the moment, and so terminate his stay effectually.

“I hope not.”

“You are very good,” said Mr. Winkle; “but a letter has been received from Mr. Pickwick⁠—so I learn by a note from Mr. Tupman, which was brought up to my bedroom door, this morning⁠—in which he requests us to join him at Bury today; and we are to leave by the coach at noon.”

“But you will come back?” said Mrs. Pott.