leered horribly upon the food as he unpacked it from the basket.
"Now make haste," said Mr. Wardle; for the fat boy was hanging fondly over a capon, which he seemed wholly unable to part with. The boy sighed deeply, and, bestowing an ardent gaze upon its plumpness, unwillingly consigned it to his master.
"That's right—look sharp. Now the tongue—now the pigeon-pie. Take care of that veal and ham—mind the lobsters—take the salad out of the cloth—give me the dressing." Such were the hurried orders which issued from the lips of Mr. Wardle, as he handed in the different articles described, and placed dishes in everybody's hands, and on everybody's knees, in endless number.
"Now, an't this capital?" inquired that jolly personage, when the work of destruction had commenced.
"Capital!" said Mr. Winkle, who was carving a fowl on the box.
"Glass of wine?"
"With the greatest pleasure."
"You'd better have a bottle to yourself, up there, hadn't you?"
"You're very good."
"Joe!"
"Yes, sir." (He wasn't asleep this time, having just succeeded in abstracting a veal patty).
"Bottle of wine to the gentleman on the box. Glad to see you, sir."
"Thankee." Mr. Winkle emptied his glass, and placed the bottle on the coach-box, by his side.
"Will you permit me to have the pleasure, sir?" said Mr. Trundle to Mr. Winkle.
"With great pleasure," replied Mr. Winkle to Mr. Trundle: and then the two gentlemen took wine, after which they took a glass of wine round, ladies and all.
"How dear Emily is flirting with the stranger gentleman,"
