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But he had no opportunity of pondering over his love just then, for Bob Sawyer's return was the immediate precursor of the arrival of a meat pie from the baker's, of which that gentleman insisted on his staying to partake.The cloth was laid by an occasional charwoman, who officiated in the capacity of Mr.Bob Sawyer's housekeeper; and a third knife and fork having been borrowed from the mother of the boy in the grey livery (for Mr.Sawyer's domestic arrangements were as yet conducted on a limited scale), they sat down to dinner; the beer being served up, as Mr.Sawyer remarked, "in it's native pewter."After dinner, Mr.Bob Sawyer ordered in the largest mortar in the shop, and proceeded to brew a reeking jorum of rum-punch therein; stirring up and amalgamating the materials with a pestle in a very creditable and apothecary-like manner.Mr.Sawyer, being a bachelor, had only one tumbler in the house, which was assigned to Mr.Winkle as a compliment to the visitor: Mr.Ben Allen being accommodated with a funnel with a cork in the narrow end: and Bob Sawyer contented himself with one of those wide-lipped crystal vessels inscribed with a variety of cabalistic characters, in which chemists are wont to measure out their liquid drugs in compounding prescriptions.These preliminaries adjusted, the punch was tasted, and pronounced excellent;and it having been arranged that Bob Sawyer and Ben Allen should be considered at liberty to fill twice to Mr.Winkle's once, they started fair, with great satisfaction and good-fellowship.

There was no singing, because Mr.Bob Sawyer said it wouldn't look professional;but to make amends for this deprivation there was so much talking and laughing that it might have been heard, and very likely was, at the end of the street.

Which conversation materially lightened the hours and improved the mind of Mr.Bob Sawyer's boy, who, instead of devoting the evening to his ordinary occupation of writing his name on the counter, and rubbing it out again, peeped through the glass door, and thus listened and looked on at the same time.

The mirth of Mr.Bob Sawyer was rapidly ripening into the furious; Mr.

Ben Allen was fast relapsing into the sentimental, and the punch had well-nigh disappeared altogether, when the boy hastily running in, announced that a young woman had just come over, to say that Sawyer late Nockemorf was wanted directly, a couple of streets off.This broke up the party.Mr.

Bob Sawyer, understanding the message, after some twenty repetitions, tied a wet cloth round his head to sober himself, and, having partially succeeded, put on his green spectacles and issued forth.Resisting all entreaties to stay till he came back, and finding it quite impossible to engage Mr.

Ben Allen in any intelligible conversation on the subject nearest his heart, or indeed on any other, Mr.Winkle took his departure, and returned to the Bush.

The anxiety of his mind, and the numerous meditations which Arabella had awakened, prevented his share of the mortar of punch producing that effect upon him which it would have had, under other circumstances.So, after taking a glass of soda-water and brandy at the bar, he turned into the coffee-room, dispirited rather than elevated by the occurrences of the evening.

Sitting in the front of the fire, with his back towards him, was a tallish gentleman in a great-coat: the only other occupant of the room.It was rather a cool evening for the season of the year, and the gentleman drew his chair aside to afford the new-comer a sight of the fire.What were Mr.Winkle's feelings when, in doing so, he disclosed to view the face and figure of the vindictive and sanguinary Dowler!

Mr.Winkle's first impulse was to give a violent pull at the nearest bell-handle, but that unfortunately happened to be immediately behind Mr.

Dowler's head.He had made one step towards it, before he checked himself.

As he did so, Mr.Dowler very hastily drew back.

"Mr.Winkle, sir.Be calm.Don't strike me.I won't bear it.A blow!

Never!" said Mr.Dowler, looking meeker than Mr.Winkle had expected in a gentleman of his ferocity.

"A blow, sir?" stammered Mr.Winkle.

"A blow, sir," replied Dowler."Compose your feelings.Sit down.Hear me.""Sir," said Mr.Winkle, trembling from head to foot, "before I consent to sit down beside, or opposite you, without the presence of a waiter, I must be secured by some further understanding.You used a threat against me last night, sir, a dreadful threat, sir." Here Mr.Winkle turned very pale indeed, and stopped short.

"I did," said Dowler, with a countenance almost as white as Mr.Winkle's.

"Circumstances were suspicious.They have been explained.I respect your bravery.Your feeling is upright.Conscious innocence.There's my hand.

Grasp it."

"Really, sir," said Mr.Winkle, hesitating whether to give his hand or not, and almost fearing that it was demanded in order that he might be taken at an advantage, "really, sir, I--""I know what you mean," interposed Dowler."You feel aggrieved.Very natural.So should I.I was wrong.I beg your pardon.Be friendly.Forgive me." With this, Dowler fairly forced his hand upon Mr.Winkle, and shaking it with the utmost vehemence, declared he was a fellow of extreme spirit, and he had a higher opinion of him than ever.

"Now," said Dowler, "sit down.Relate it all.How did you find me? When did you follow? Be frank.Tell me.""It's quite accidental," replied Mr.Winkle, greatly perplexed by the curious and unexpected nature of the interview."Quite.""Glad of it," said Dowler."I woke this morning.I had forgotten my threat.I laughed at the accident.I felt friendly.I said so.""To whom?" inquired Mr.Winkle.

"To Mrs.Dowler.`You made a vow,' said she.`I did,' said I.`It was a rash one,' said she.`It was,' said I.`I'll apologise.Where is he?'""Who?" inquired Mr.Winkle.

"You," replied Dowler."I went down-stairs.You were not to be found.

Pickwick looked gloomy.Shook his head.Hoped no violence would be committed.