"I question that, mind!" interposed Mr. Pickwick, warmly.
"Very good," responded Wardle, "question anything you like when it's your turn to speak, but don't interrupt me."
"I beg your pardon," said Mr. Pickwick.
"Granted," replied Wardle. "'I am sorry to hear you express your opinion against marriages of affection, pa,' said Bella, colouring a little. 'I was wrong; I ought not to have said so, my dear, either,' said I, patting her cheek as kindly as a rough old fellow like me could pat it, 'for your mother's was one, and so was yours.' 'It's not that, I meant, pa,' said Bella. The fact is, pa, I wanted to speak to you about Emily.'"
Mr. Pickwick started.
"What's the matter now?" inquired Wardle, stopping in his narrative.
"Nothing," replied Mr. Pickwick. "Pray go on."
"I never could spin out a story," said Wardle abruptly. "It must come out, sooner or later, and it'll save us all a great deal of time if it comes at once. The long and the short of it is, then, that Bella at last mustered up courage to tell me that Emily was very unhappy; that she and your young friend Snodgrass had been in constant correspondence and communication ever since last Christmas; that she had very dutifully made up her mind to run away with him, in laudable imitation of her old friend and schoolfellow; but that having some compunctions of conscience on the subject, inasmuch as I had always been rather kindly disposed to both of them, they had thought it better in the first instance to pay me the compliment of asking whether I would have any objection to their being married in the usual matter-of-fact manner. There now, Mr. Pickwick, if you can make it convenient to reduce your eyes to their usual size again, and to let me hear what you think we ought to do, I shall feel rather obliged to you!"
The testy manner in which the hearty old gentleman uttered this last sentence was not wholly unwarranted; for
