This is a distressing predicament for these young people,' thought Mr

Pickwick, as he dressed himself next morning. 'I'll walk up to Perker's,

and consult him about the matter.'

As Mr Pickwick was further prompted to betake himself to Gray's Inn

Square by an anxious desire to come to a pecuniary settlement with

the kind-hearted little attorney without further delay, he made a

hurried breakfast, and executed his intention so speedily, that ten

o'clock had not struck when he reached Gray's Inn.

It still wanted ten minutes to the hour when he had ascended the

staircase on which Perker's chambers were. The clerks had not arrived

yet, and he beguiled the time by looking out of the staircase window.

The healthy light of a fine October morning made even the dingy old

houses brighten up a little; some of the dusty windows actually

looking almost cheerful as the sun's rays gleamed upon them. Clerk

after clerk hastened into the square by one or other of the entrances,

and looking up at the Hall clock, accelerated or decreased his rate of

walking according to the time at which his office hours nominally

commenced; the half-past nine o'clock people suddenly becoming very

brisk, and the ten o'clock gentlemen falling into a pace of most

aristocratic slowness. The clock struck ten, and clerks poured in

faster than ever, each one in a greater perspiration than his

predecessor. The noise of unlocking and opening doors echoed and re-

echoed on every side; heads appeared as if by magic in every window;

the porters took up their stations for the day; the slipshod

laundresses hurried off; the postman ran from house to house; and

the whole legal hive was in a bustle.

You're early, Mr Pickwick,' said a voice behind him.

Ah, Mr Lowten,' replied that gentleman, looking round, and

recognising his old acquaintance.

Precious warm walking, isn't it?' said Lowten, drawing a Bramah key

from his pocket, with a small plug therein, to keep the dust out.

You appear to feel it so,' rejoined Mr Pickwick, smiling at the clerk,

who was literally red-hot.

I've come along, rather, I can tell you,' replied Lowten. 'It went the half

hour as I came through the Polygon. I'm here before him, though, so I

don't mind.'

Comforting himself with this reflection, Mr Lowten extracted the plug

from the door-key; having opened the door, replugged and repocketed

his Bramah, and picked up the letters which the postman had

dropped through the box, he ushered Mr Pickwick into the office.

The Pickwick Papers