The kitchen chimney ain't a-fire, is it, Emma?' inquired the old lady.

Lor, grandma! No,' screamed both the young ladies.

What's the matter?' roared the master of the house.

The man gasped for breath, and faintly ejaculated -

They ha' gone, mas'r! - gone right clean off, Sir!' (At this juncture Mr

Tupman was observed to lay down his knife and fork, and to turn very

pale.)

'Who's gone?' said Mr Wardle fiercely.

'Mus'r Jingle and Miss Rachael, in a po'-chay, from Blue Lion,

Muggleton. I was there; but I couldn't stop 'em; so I run off to tell 'ee.'

'I paid his expenses!' said Mr Tupman, jumping up frantically. 'He's

got ten pounds of mine! - stop him! - he's swindled me! - I won't bear

it! - I'll have justice, Pickwick! - I won't stand it!' and with sundry

incoherent exclamations of the like nature, the unhappy gentleman

spun round and round the apartment, in a transport of frenzy.

Lord preserve us!' ejaculated Mr Pickwick, eyeing the extraordinary

gestures of his friend with terrified surprise. 'He's gone mad! What

shall we do?' 'Do!' said the stout old host, who regarded only the last

words of the sentence. 'Put the horse in the gig! I'll get a chaise at the

Lion, and follow 'em instantly. Where?' - he exclaimed, as the man ran

out to execute the commission - 'where's that villain, Joe?'

Here I am! but I hain't a willin,' replied a voice. It was the fat boy's.

Let me get at him, Pickwick,' cried Wardle, as he rushed at the ill-

starred youth. 'He was bribed by that scoundrel, Jingle, to put me on

a wrong scent, by telling a cock-and-bull story of my sister and your

friend Tupman!' (Here Mr Tupman sank into a chair.) 'Let me get at

him!'

'Don't let him!' screamed all the women, above whose exclamations

the blubbering of the fat boy was distinctly audible.

'I won't be held!' cried the old man. 'Mr Winkle, take your hands off.

Mr Pickwick, let me go, sir!'

It was a beautiful sight, in that moment of turmoil and confusion, to

behold the placid and philosophical expression of Mr Pickwick's face,

albeit somewhat flushed with exertion, as he stood with his arms

firmly clasped round the extensive waist of their corpulent host, thus

restraining the impetuosity of his passion, while the fat boy was

The Pickwick Papers