Wardle and Mr Ben Allen exchanged glances. 'Joe!' said Wardle.

Yes, sir.'

'What did you go away for?'

The fat boy looked hopelessly in the face of everybody at table, and

stammered out that he didn't know.

'Oh,' said Wardle, 'you don't know, eh? Take this cheese to Mr

Pickwick.'

Now, Mr Pickwick being in the very best health and spirits, had been

making himself perfectly delightful all dinner-time, and was at this

moment engaged in an energetic conversation with Emily and Mr

Winkle; bowing his head, courteously, in the emphasis of his

discourse, gently waving his left hand to lend force to his

observations, and all glowing with placid smiles. He took a piece of

cheese from the plate, and was on the point of turning round to renew

the conversation, when the fat boy, stooping so as to bring his head

on a level with that of Mr Pickwick, pointed with his thumb over his

shoulder, and made the most horrible and hideous face that was ever

seen out of a Christmas pantomime.

'Dear me!' said Mr Pickwick, starting, 'what a very - Eh?' He stopped,

for the fat boy had drawn himself up, and was, or pretended to be,

fast asleep.

What's the matter?' inquired Wardle.

'This is such an extremely singular lad!' replied Mr Pickwick, looking

uneasily at the boy. 'It seems an odd thing to say, but upon my word I

am afraid that, at times, he is a little deranged.'

Oh! Mr Pickwick, pray don't say so,' cried Emily and Arabella, both at

once.

I am not certain, of course,' said Mr Pickwick, amidst profound

silence and looks of general dismay; 'but his manner to me this

moment really was very alarming. Oh!' ejaculated Mr Pickwick,

suddenly jumping up with a short scream. 'I beg your pardon, ladies,

but at that moment he ran some sharp instrument into my leg. Really,

he is not safe.'

'He's drunk,' roared old Wardle passionately. 'Ring the bell! Call the

waiters! He's drunk.'

The Pickwick Papers