“I’ve put my name down for an arm, at our place,” said Mr. Allen. “We’re clubbing for a subject, and the list is nearly full, only we can’t get hold of any fellow that wants a head. I wish you’d take it.” “No,” replied Bob Sawyer; “can’t afford expensive luxuries.” “Nonsense!” said Allen. “Can’t indeed,” rejoined Bob Sawyer. “I wouldn’t mind a brain, but I couldn’t stand a whole head.” “Hush, hush, gentlemen, pray,” said Mr. Pickwick, “I hear the ladies.” As Mr. Pickwick spoke, the ladies, gallantly escorted by Messrs. Snodgrass, Winkle, and Tupman, returned from an early walk. “Lor, Ben!” said Arabella, in a tone which expressed more surprise than pleasure at the sight of her brother. “Come to take you home to-morrow,” replied Benjamin. Mr. Winkle turned pale. “Don’t you see Bob Sawyer, Arabella?” enquired Mr. Benjamin Allen, somewhat reproachfully. Arabella gracefully held out her hand, in acknowledgment of Bob Sawyer’s presence. A thrill of hatred struck to Mr. Winkle’s heart, as Bob Sawyer inflicted on the proffered hand a perceptible squeeze. “Ben, dear!” said Arabella, blushing; “have—have—you been introduced to Mr. Winkle?” “I have not been, but I shall be very happy to be, Arabella,” replied her brother gravely. Here Mr. Allen bowed grimly to Mr. Winkle, while Mr. Winkle and Mr. Bob Sawyer glanced mutual distrust out of the corners of their eyes. The arrival of the two new visitors, and the consequent check upon Mr. Winkle and the young lady with the fur round her boots, would in all probability have proved a very unpleasant interruption to the hilarity of the party, had not the cheerfulness of Mr. Pickwick, and the good humour of the host, been exerted to the very utmost for the common weal. Mr. Winkle gradually insinuated himself into the good graces of Mr. Benjamin Allen, and even joined in a friendly conversation with Mr. Bob Sawyer; who, enlivened with the brandy, and the breakfast, and the talking, gradually ripened into a state of extreme facetiousness, and related with much glee an agreeable anecdote, about the removal of a tumour on some gentleman’s head, which he illustrated by means of an oyster-knife and a half-quartern loaf, to the great edification of the assembled company. Then the whole train went to church, where Mr. Benjamin Allen fell fast asleep; while Mr. Bob Sawyer abstracted his thoughts from worldly matters, by the ingenious process of carving his name on the seat of the pew, in corpulent letters of about four inches long. “Now,” said Wardle, after a substantial lunch, with the agreeable items of strong-beer and cherry-brandy, had been done ample justice to; “what say you to an hour on the ice? We shall have plenty of time.” “Capital!” said Mr. Benjamin Allen. “Prime!” ejaculated Mr. Bob Sawyer. “You skait, of course, Winkle?” said Wardle. “Ye—yes; oh, yes;” replied Mr. Winkle. “I—I—am _rather_ out of practice.” “Oh, _do_ skait, Mr. Winkle,” said Arabella. “I like to see it _so_ much.”