His landlady, Mrs. Bardell, was a comely woman of bustling manners and agreeable appearance, with a natural gift for cooking.  Cleanliness and quiet reigned throughout the house, and in it Mr. Pickwick’s will was law.

To anyone acquainted with these things and with Mr. Pickwick’s admirably regulated mind, his conduct on the morning previous to his setting out for Eatanswill seemed most mysterious and unaccountable.  He paced the room, popped his head out of the window, and constantly referred to his watch.  It was evident to Mrs. Bardell, who was dusting the apartment, that something of importance was in contemplation.

“Mrs. Bardell,” said Mr. Pickwick at last, “your little boy is a very long time gone.”

“Why, it’s a good long way to the Borough, sir!” remonstrated Mrs. Bardell.

“Very true; so it is.  Mrs. Bardell do you think it’s a much greater expense to keep two people than to keep one?”

“La, Mr. Pickwick!” said Mrs. Bardell, colouring, as she fancied she observed a species of matrimonial twinkle in the eyes of her lodger.  “La, Mr. Pickwick, what a question!”

“Well, but do you?” inquired Mr. Pickwick.

“That depends,” said Mrs. Bardell, “a good deal upon the person, you know, Mr. Pickwick; and whether it’s a saving and careful person, sir.”

“That’s very true,” said Mr. Pickwick; “but the person I have in my eye (here he looked very hard at Mrs. Bardell) I think possesses these qualities.  To tell you the truth, I have made up my mind.  You’ll think it very strange now that I never consulted you about this matter till I sent your little boy out this morning, eh?”

Mrs. Bardell had long worshipped Mr. Pickwick at a distance, and now she thought he was going to propose.  A deliberate plan, too—­sent her little boy to the Borough to get him out of the way!  How thoughtful!  How considerate!

“It’ll save you a good deal of trouble, won’t it?” said Mr. Pickwick.  “And when I am in town you’ll always have somebody to sit with you.”  Mr. Pickwick smiled placidly.

“I’m sure I ought to be a very happy woman,” said Mrs. Bardell, trembling with agitation.  “Oh, you kind, good, playful dear!” And, without more ado, she flung her arms round Mr. Pickwick’s neck.

“Bless my soul!” cried the astonished Mr. Pickwick.  “Mrs. Bardell, my good woman!  Dear me, what a situation!  Pray consider if anybody should come!”

“Oh, let them come!” exclaimed Mrs. Bardell frantically.  “I’ll never leave you, dear, kind soul!” And she clung the tighter.

“Mercy upon me,” said Mr. Pickwick, struggling; “I hear somebody coming upstairs!  Don’t, there’s a good creature, don’t!” But Mrs. Bardell had fainted in his arms, and before he could gain time to deposit her on a chair, Master Bardell entered the room, followed by Mr. Pickwick’s friends Mr. Tupman, Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass.

“What is the matter?” said the three Pickwickians.