"Oh dear, yes, sir, quite," replied Bob.
"I thought you did, sir," rejoined the old gentleman, with indignant emphasis. "Perhaps you looked at me, sir?"
"Oh, no! sir, not at all," replied Bob, with extreme civility.
"I am very glad to hear it, sir," said Mr. Winkle, senior. Having frowned upon the abashed Bob with great magnificence, the old gentleman again brought the letter to the light, and began to read it seriously.
Mr. Pickwick eyed him intently as he turned from the bottom line of the first page to the top line of the second, and from the bottom of the second to the top of the third, and from the bottom of the third, to the top of the fourth; but not the slightest alteration of countenance afforded a clue to the feelings with which he received the announcement of his son's marriage, which Mr. Pickwick knew was in the very first half-dozen lines.
He read the letter to the last word; folded it again with all the carefulness and precision of a man of business; and, just when Mr. Pickwick expected some great outbreak of feeling, dipped a pen in the inkstand, and said as quietly as if he were speaking on the most ordinary counting-house topic:
"What is Nathaniel's address, Mr. Pickwick?"
"The George and Vulture, at present," replied that gentleman.
"George and Vulture. Where is that?"
"George Yard, Lombard Street."
"In the City?"
"Yes."
The old gentleman methodically indorsed the address on the back of the letter; and then, placing it in the desk, which he locked, said as he got off the stool and put the bunch of keys in his pocket:
"I suppose there is nothing else which need detain us, Mr. Pickwick?"
"Nothing else, my dear sir!" observed that warm-hearted person in indignant amazement. "Nothing else! Have you no opinion to express on this momentous event in our young friend's life? No assurance to convey to him, through me, of the continuance of your affection and protection? Nothing to say which will cheer and sustain him, and the anxious girl who looks to him for comfort and support? My dear sir, consider."
"I will consider," replied the old gentleman. "I have nothing to say just now. I am a man of business, Mr. Pickwick. I never commit myself hastily in any affair, and from what I see of this, I by no means like the appearance of it. A thousand pounds is not much, Mr. Pickwick."
"You're very right, sir," interposed Ben Allen, just awake enough to know that he had spent his thousand pounds without the smallest difficulty. "You're an intelligent man. Bob, he's a very knowing fellow this."
"I am very happy to find that you do me the justice to make the admission, sir," said Mr. Winkle, senior, looking contemptuously at Ben Allen, who was shaking his head profoundly. "The fact is, Mr. Pickwick, that when I gave my son a roving licence for a year or so, to see something of men and manners (which he has done under your auspices), so that he might not enter into life a mere boarding-school milk- sop to be gulled by everybody, I never bargained for this. He knows that, very well, so if I withdraw my