were great, dropsical, bloated articles, each supported on a huge

gouty leg. This would have been in itself sufficient to have possessed

the company with the real state of affairs; but the young woman of all

work had prevented the possibility of any misconception arising in the

mind of any gentleman upon the subject, by forcibly dragging every

man's glass away, long before he had finished his beer, and audibly

stating, despite the winks and interruptions of Mr Bob Sawyer, that it

was to be conveyed downstairs, and washed forthwith.

It is a very ill wind that blows nobody any good. The prim man in the

cloth boots, who had been unsuccessfully attempting to make a joke

during the whole time the round game lasted, saw his opportunity,

and availed himself of it. The instant the glasses disappeared, he

commenced a long story about a great public character, whose name

he had forgotten, making a particularly happy reply to another

eminent and illustrious individual whom he had never been able to

identify. He enlarged at some length and with great minuteness upon

divers collateral circumstances, distantly connected with the anecdote

in hand, but for the life of him he couldn't recollect at that precise

moment what the anecdote was, although he had been in the habit of

telling the story with great applause for the last ten years.

Dear me,' said the prim man in the cloth boots, 'it is a very

extraordinary circumstance.'

'I am sorry you have forgotten it,' said Mr Bob Sawyer, glancing

eagerly at the door, as he thought he heard the noise of glasses

jingling; 'very sorry.'

'So am I,' responded the prim man, 'because I know it would have

afforded so much amusement. Never mind; I dare say I shall manage

to recollect it, in the course of half an hour or so.'

The prim man arrived at this point just as the glasses came back,

when Mr Bob Sawyer, who had been absorbed in attention during the

whole time, said he should very much like to hear the end of it, for, so

far as it went, it was, without exception, the very best story he had

ever heard. The sight of the tumblers restored Bob Sawyer to a degree

of equanimity which he had not possessed since his interview with his

landlady. His face brightened up, and he began to feel quite convivial.

'Now, Betsy,' said Mr Bob Sawyer, with great suavity, and dispersing,

at the same time, the tumultuous little mob of glasses the girl had

collected in the centre of the table - 'now, Betsy, the warm water; be

brisk, there's a good girl.'

You can't have no warm water,' replied Betsy.

No warm water!' exclaimed Mr Bob Sawyer.

The Pickwick Papers