'It runs thus,' said the grave man, still more gravely.
'"Say, have fiends in shape of boys
With wild halloo, and brutal noise,
Hunted thee from marshy joys,
With a dog,
Expiring frog!"'
'Finely expressed,' said Mr. Pickwick.
'All point, Sir,' said Mr. Leo Hunter; 'but you shall hear Mrs. Leo Hunter repeat it. She can do justice to it, Sir. She will repeat it, in character, Sir, tomorrow morning.'
'In character!'
'As Minerva. But I forgot—it's a fancy-dress dejeune.'
'Dear me,' said Mr. Pickwick, glancing at his own figure—'I can't possibly—