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The
fat
boy
,
who
had
been
effectually
roused
by
the
compression
of
a
portion
of
his
leg
between
the
finger
and
thumb
of
Mr
.
Winkle
,
rolled
off
the
box
once
again
,
and
proceeded
to
unpack
the
hamper
with
more
expedition
than
could
have
been
expected
from
his
previous
inactivity
.
‘
Now
we
must
sit
close
,
’
said
the
stout
gentleman
.
After
a
great
many
jokes
about
squeezing
the
ladies
’
sleeves
,
and
a
vast
quantity
of
blushing
at
sundry
jocose
proposals
,
that
the
ladies
should
sit
in
the
gentlemen
’
s
laps
,
the
whole
party
were
stowed
down
in
the
barouche
;
and
the
stout
gentleman
proceeded
to
hand
the
things
from
the
fat
boy
(
who
had
mounted
up
behind
for
the
purpose
)
into
the
carriage
.
‘
Now
,
Joe
,
knives
and
forks
.
’
The
knives
and
forks
were
handed
in
,
and
the
ladies
and
gentlemen
inside
,
and
Mr
.
Winkle
on
the
box
,
were
each
furnished
with
those
useful
instruments
.
‘
Plates
,
Joe
,
plates
.
’
A
similar
process
employed
in
the
distribution
of
the
crockery
.
‘
Now
,
Joe
,
the
fowls
.
Damn
that
boy
;
he
’
s
gone
to
sleep
again
.
Joe
!
Joe
!
’
(
Sundry
taps
on
the
head
with
a
stick
,
and
the
fat
boy
,
with
some
difficulty
,
roused
from
his
lethargy
.
)
‘
Come
,
hand
in
the
eatables
.
’
There
was
something
in
the
sound
of
the
last
word
which
roused
the
unctuous
boy
.
He
jumped
up
,
and
the
leaden
eyes
which
twinkled
behind
his
mountainous
cheeks
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
ain
’
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
.
