"Now, Mr. Winkle," cried Mr. Pickwick, quite unconscious that there was anything the matter, "come; the ladies are all anxiety.""Yes, yes," replied Mr. Winkle, with a ghastly smile. "I"m coming.""Just going to begin," said Sam, endeavoring to disengage himself. "Now, sir, start off.""Stop an instant, Sam," gasped Mr. Winkle, clinging most affectionately to Mr. Weller. "I find I"ve got a couple of coats at home that I don"t want, Sam. You may have them, Sam.""Thank"e, sir," said Mr. Weller.
"Never mind touching your hat, Sam," said Mr. Winkle, hastily. "You needn"t take your hand away to do that. I meant to have given you five shillings this morning for a Christmas- box, Sam. I"ll give it you this afternoon, Sam.""You"re very good, sir," replied Mr. Weller.
"Just hold me at first, Sam; will you?" said Mr. Winkle. "There, that"s right. I shall soon get in the way of it, Sam. Not too fast, Sam; not too fast!"Mr. Winkle, stooping forward, with his body half doubled up, was being assisted over the ice by Mr. Weller, in a very singular and un-swanlike manner, when Mr. Pickwick innocently shouted from the opposite bank, "Sam!""Sir?" said Mr. Weller. "Here! I want you.""Let go, sir," said Sam; "don"t you hear the governor calling? Let go, sir."With a violent effort, Mr. Weller disengaged himself from the grasp of the agonized Pickwickian, and, in so doing, administered a considerable impetus1 to the unhappy Mr. Winkle. With an accuracy which no degree of dexterity or practice would have insured, that unfortunate gentleman bore swiftly down into the center of the reel, at the very moment when Mr. Bob Sawyer was performing a flourish of unparalleled beauty.
Mr. Winkle struck wildly against him, and with a loud crash they both fell heavily down. Mr. Pickwick ran to the spot. Bob Sawyer had risen to his feet, but Mr. Winkle was far too wise to do anything of the kind in skates. He was seated on the ice, making spasmodic2 efforts to smile; but anguish was depicted3 on every lineament4 of his countenance.
"Are you hurt?" inquired Mr. Benjamin Allen, with great anxiety.
"Not much," said Mr. Winkle, rubbing his back.
"I wish you"d let me bleed you," said Mr. Benjamin with great eagerness.
"No, thank you," replied Mr. Winkle, hurriedly. "I really think you had better," said Allen.
"Thank you," replied Mr. Winkle; "I"d rather not."1 Impetus: the force with which a body is driven or impelled. 2 Spasmodic: as in a spasm; shaking violently.
3 Depicted: marked; painted. 4 Lineament: feature.
"What do you think, Mr. Pickwick?" inquired Bob Sawyer. Mr. Pickwick was excited and indignant. He beckoned to Mr.
Weller, and said in a stern voice, "Take his skates off!""No; but really I had scarcely begun," remonstrated Mr. Winkle.
"Take his skates off," repeated Mr. Pickwick, firmly.
The command was not to be resisted. Mr. Winkle allowed Sam to obey it in silence.
"Lift him up," said Mr. Pickwick. Sam assisted him to rise. Mr. Pickwick retired a few paces apart from the bystanders,and, beckoning his friend to approach, fixed a searching look upon him, and uttered in a low but distinct and emphatic tone, these remarkable words," You"re a humbug, sir.""A what, sir?" said Mr. Winkle, starting.
"A humbug, sir. I will speak plainer if you wish it: an impostor, sir."With these words Mr. Pickwick turned slowly on his heel and rejoined his friends.
