Here, in the twinkling of an eye, he divested himself of his coat, put on

a threadbare garment, which he took out of a desk, hung up his hat,

pulled forth a few sheets of cartridge and blotting-paper in alternate

layers, and, sticking a pen behind his ear, rubbed his hands with an

air of great satisfaction.

There, you see, Mr Pickwick,' he said, 'now I'm complete. I've got my

office coat on, and my pad out, and let him come as soon as he likes.

You haven't got a pinch of snuff about you, have you?'

No, I have not,' replied Mr Pickwick.

I'm sorry for it,' said Lowten. 'Never mind. I'll run out presently, and

get a bottle of soda. Don't I look rather queer about the eyes, Mr

Pickwick?'

The individual appealed to, surveyed Mr Lowten's eyes from a

distance, and expressed his opinion that no unusual queerness was

perceptible in those features.

I'm glad of it,' said Lowten. 'We were keeping it up pretty tolerably at

the Stump last night, and I'm rather out of sorts this morning.

Perker's been about that business of yours, by the bye.'

What business?' inquired Mr Pickwick. 'Mrs. Bardell's costs?'

No, I don't mean that,' replied Mr Lowten. 'About getting that

customer that we paid the ten shillings in the pound to the bill-

discounter for, on your account - to get him out of the Fleet, you know

about getting him to Demerara.'

'Oh, Mr Jingle,' said Mr Pickwick hastily. 'Yes. Well?'

Well, it's all arranged,' said Lowten, mending his pen. 'The agent at

Liverpool said he had been obliged to you many times when you were

in business, and he would be glad to take him on your

recommendation.'

'That's well,' said Mr Pickwick. 'I am delighted to hear it.'

'But I say,' resumed Lowten, scraping the back of the pen preparatory

to making a fresh split, 'what a soft chap that other is!'

Which other?'

'Why, that servant, or friend, or whatever he is; you know, Trotter.'

The Pickwick Papers