and the stout gentleman proceeded to hand the things from the fat

boy (who had mounted up behind for the purpose) into the carriage.

Now, Joe, knives and forks.' The knives and forks were handed in,

and the ladies and gentlemen inside, and Mr Winkle on the box, were

each furnished with those useful instruments.

'Plates, Joe, plates.' A similar process employed in the distribution of

the crockery. 'Now, Joe, the fowls. Damn that boy; he's gone to sleep

again. Joe! Joe!' (Sundry taps on the head with a stick, and the fat

boy, with some difficulty, roused from his lethargy.) 'Come, hand in

the eatables.'

There was something in the sound of the last word which roused the

unctuous boy. He jumped up, and the leaden eyes which twinkled

behind his mountainous cheeks leered horribly upon the food as he

unpacked it from the basket.

Now make haste,' said Mr Wardle; for the fat boy was hanging fondly

over a capon, which he seemed wholly unable to part with. The boy

sighed deeply, and, bestowing an ardent gaze upon its plumpness,

unwillingly consigned it to his master.

That's right - look sharp. Now the tongue - now the pigeon pie. Take

care of that veal and ham - mind the lobsters - take the salad out of

the cloth - give me the dressing.' Such were the hurried orders which

issued from the lips of Mr Wardle, as he handed in the different

articles described, and placed dishes in everybody's hands, and on

everybody's knees, in endless number. 'Now ain't this capital?'

inquired that jolly personage, when the work of destruction had

commenced.

Capital!' said Mr Winkle, who was carving a fowl on the box.

Glass of wine?'

With the greatest pleasure.' 'You'd better have a bottle to yourself up

there, hadn't you?'

You're very good.'

Joe!'

Yes, Sir.' (He wasn't asleep this time, having just succeeded in

abstracting a veal patty.)

Bottle of wine to the gentleman on the box. Glad to see you, Sir.'

The Pickwick Papers