‘Nothing has been left undone, my dear sir--nothing whatever. There are twenty washed men at the street door for you to shake hands with; and six children in arms that you’re to pat on the head, and inquire the age of; be particular about the children, my dear sir--it has always a great effect, that sort of thing.’ ‘I’ll take care,’ said the Honourable Samuel Slumkey. ‘And, perhaps, my dear Sir,’ said the cautious little man, ‘perhaps if you could--I don’t mean to say it’s indispensable--but if you could manage to kiss one of ‘em, it would produce a very great impression on the crowd.’ ‘Wouldn’t it have as good an effect if the proposer or seconder did that?’ said the Honourable Samuel Slumkey. ‘Why, I am afraid it wouldn’t,’ replied the agent; ‘if it were done by yourself, my dear Sir, I think it would make you very popular.’ ‘Very well,’ said the Honourable Samuel Slumkey, with a resigned air, ‘then it must be done. That’s all.’ ‘Arrange the procession,’ cried the twenty committee-men. Amidst the cheers of the assembled throng, the band, and the constables, and the committee-men, and the voters, and the horsemen, and the carriages, took their places--each of the two-horse vehicles being closely packed with as many gentlemen as could manage to stand upright in it; and that assigned to Mr. Perker, containing Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Tupman, Mr. Snodgrass, and about half a dozen of the committee besides. There was a moment of awful suspense as the procession waited for the Honourable Samuel Slumkey to step into his carriage. Suddenly the crowd set up a great cheering. ‘He has come out,’ said little Mr. Perker, greatly excited; the more so as their position did not enable them to see what was going forward. Another cheer, much louder. ‘He has shaken hands with the men,’ cried the little agent. Another cheer, far more vehement. ‘He has patted the babies on the head,’ said Mr. Perker, trembling with anxiety. A roar of applause that rent the air. ‘He has kissed one of ‘em!’ exclaimed the delighted little man. A second roar. ‘He has kissed another,’ gasped the excited manager. A third roar. ‘He’s kissing ‘em all!’ screamed the enthusiastic little gentleman, and hailed by the deafening shouts of the multitude, the procession moved on.