 for Mr. Bob Sawyer having attached
the case-bottle to the end of the walking-stick, was battering the window with
it, in token of his wish that his friends inside would partake of its contents,
in all good fellowship and harmony.
    »What's to be done?« said Mr. Pickwick, looking at the bottle. »This
proceeding is more absurd than the other.«
    »I think it would be best to take it in,« replied Mr. Ben Allen; »it would
serve him right to take it in and keep it, wouldn't it?«
    »It would,« said Mr. Pickwick: »shall I?«
    »I think it the most proper course we could possibly adopt,« replied Ben.
    This advice quite coinciding with his own opinion, Mr. Pickwick gently let
down the window and disengaged the bottle from the stick: upon which the latter
was drawn up, and Mr. Bob Sawyer was heard to laugh heartily.
    »What a merry dog it is!« said Mr. Pickwick, looking round at his companion
with the bottle in his hand.
    »He is,« said Mr. Allen.
    »You cannot possibly be angry with him,« remarked Mr. Pickwick.
    »Quite out of the question,« observed Benjamin Allen.
    During this short interchange of sentiments, Mr. Pickwick had, in an
abstracted mood, uncorked the bottle.
    »What is it?« inquired Ben Allen, carelessly.
    »I don't know,« replied Mr. Pickwick, with equal carelessness. »It smells, I
think, like milk-punch.«
    »Oh, indeed?« said Ben.
    »I think so,« rejoined Mr. Pickwick, very properly guarding himself against
the possibility of stating an untruth: »mind, I could not undertake to say
certainly, without tasting it.«
    »You had better do so,« said Ben; »we may as well know what it is.«
    »Do you think so?« replied Mr. Pickwick. »Well; if you are curious to know,
of course I have no objection.«
    Ever willing to sacrifice his own feelings to the wishes of his friend, Mr.
Pickwick at once took a pretty long taste.
    »What is it?« inquired Ben Allen, interrupting him with some impatience.
    »Curious,« said Mr. Pickwick, smacking his lips, »I hardly know, now. Oh,
yes!« said Mr. Pickwick, after a second taste. »It is punch
