"Ask him to step here."
"Yes, sir." Exit Jackson.
"Take a seat, sir," said Fogg; "there is the paper, sir; my partner will be here directly, and we can converse about this matter, sir."
Mr. Pickwick took a seat and the paper, but instead of reading the latter, peeped over the top of it, and took a survey of the man of business, who was an elderly, pimply-faced, vegetable-diet sort of man, in a black coat, dark mixture trousers, and small black gaiters; a kind of being who seemed to be an essential part of the desk at which he was writing, and to have as much thought or sentiment.
After a few minutes' silence, Mr. Dodson, a plump, portly, stern-looking man, with a loud voice, appeared; and the conversation commenced.
"This is Mr. Pickwick," said Fogg.
"Ah! You are the defendant, sir, in Bardell and Pickwick?" said Dodson.
"I am, sir," replied Mr. Pickwick.
"Well, sir," said Dodson, "and what do you propose?"
"Ah!" said Fogg, thrusting his hands into his trousers' pockets, and throwing himself back in his chair, "what do you propose, Mr. Pickwick?"
"Hush, Fogg," said Dodson, "let me hear what Mr. Pickwick has to say."
"I came, gentlemen," said Mr. Pickwick, gazing placidly on the two partners, "I came here, gentlemen, to express the surprise with which I received your letter of the other day, and to inquire what grounds of action you can have against me."
"Grounds of—" Fogg had ejaculated this much, when he was stopped by Dodson.
"Mr. Fogg," said Dodson, "I am going to speak."
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Dodson," said Fogg.
"For the grounds of moral elevation in his action, sir," continued Dodson, with air, "you will consult your own conscience and your own feelings. We, sir, we, are guided entirely
