"What do you mean by this, Mr.Sawyer?" replied the voice, with great shrillness and rapidity of utterance."Ain't it enough to be swindled out of one's rent, and money lent out of pocket besides, and abused and insulted by your friends that dares to call themselves men: without having the house turned out of the window, and noise enough made to bring the fire-engines here, at two o'clock in the morning?--Turn them wretches away.""You ought to be ashamed of yourselves," said the voice of Mr.Raddle, which appeared to proceed from beneath some distant bed-clothes.
"Ashamed of themselves!" said Mrs.Raddle."Why don't you go down and knock 'em every one down-stairs? You would if you was a man.""I should if I was a dozen men, my dear," replied Mr.Raddle, pacifically, "but they've the advantage of me in numbers, my dear.""Ugh, you coward!" replied Mrs.Raddle, with supreme contempt." Do you mean to turn them wretches out, or not, Mr.Sawyer?""They're going, Mrs.Raddle, they're going," said the miserable Bob.
"I am afraid you'd better go," said Mr.Bob Sawyer to his friends."I thought you were making too much noise.""It's a very unfortunate thing," said the prim man."Just as we were getting so comfortable too!" The prim man was just beginning to have a dawning recollection of the story he had forgotten.
"It's hardly to be borne," said the prim man, looking round."Hardly to be borne, is it?""Not to be endured," replied Jack Hopkins; "let's have the other verse, Bob.Come, here goes!""No, no, Jack, don't," interposed Bob Sawyer; "it's a capital song, but I am afraid we had better not have the other verse.They are very violent people, the people of the house.""Shall I step up-stairs, and pitch into the landlord?" inquired Hopkins, "or keep on ringing the bell, or go and groan on the staircase? You may command me, Bob.""I am very much indebted to you for your friendship and good nature, Hopkins," said the wretched Mr.Bob Sawyer, "but I think the best plan to avoid any further dispute is for us to break up at once.""Now, Mr.Sawyer!" screamed the shrill voice of Mrs.Raddle, " are them brutes going?""They're only looking for their hats, Mrs.Raddle," said Bob; "they are going directly.""Going!" said Mrs.Raddle, thrusting her night-cap over the banisters just as Mr.Pickwick, followed by Mr.Tupman, emerged from the sitting-room.
"Going! what did they ever come for?"
"My dear ma'am," remonstrated Mr.Pickwick, looking up.
"Get along with you, you old wretch!" replied Mrs.Raddle, hastily withdrawing the night-cap."Old enough to be his grandfather, you willin! You're worse than any of 'em."Mr.Pickwick found it in vain to protest his innocence, so hurried down-stairs into the street, whither he was closely followed by Mr.Tupman, Mr.Winkle, and Mr.Snodgrass.Mr.Ben Allen, who was dismally depressed with spirits and agitation, accompanied them as far as London Bridge, and in the course of the walk confided to Mr.Winkle, as an especially eligible person to intrust the secret to, that he was resolved to cut the throat of any gentleman except Mr.Bob Sawyer who should aspire to the affections of his sister Arabella.Having expressed his determination to perform this painful duty of a brother with proper firmness, he burst into tears, knocked his hat over his eyes, and, making the best of his way back, knocked double knocks at the door of the Borough Market office, and took short naps on the steps alternately, until daybreak, under the firm impression that he lived there, and had forgotten the key.
The visitors having all departed, in compliance with the rather pressing request of Mrs.Raddle, the luckless Mr.Bob Sawyer was left alone, to meditate on the probable events of to-morrow, and the pleasures of the evening.
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