By degrees, I became calm enough to release my grasp, and par-
take of pudding. Mr. Pumblechook partook of pudding. All par-
took of pudding. The course terminated, and Mr. Pumblechook
had begun to beam under the genial influence of gin-and-water. I
began to think I should get over the day, when my sister said to
Joe, 'Clean plates--cold.'

I clutched the legs of the table again immediately, and pressed
it to my bosom as if it had been the companion of my youth and
friend of my soul. I foresaw what was coming, and I felt that this
time I really was gone.

'You must taste,' said my sister, addressing the guests with her
best grace. 'You must taste, to finish with, such a delightful and
delicious present of Uncle Pumblechook's!'

Must they! Let them not hope to taste it!

'You must know,' said my sister, rising, 'it's a pie; a savoury
pork pie.'

The company murmured their compliments. Uncle Pumble-
chook, sensible of having deserved well of his fellow-creatures,
said--quite vivaciously, all things considered--'Well, Mrs. Joe,
we'll do our best endeavours; let us have a cut at this same pie.'

My sister went out to get it. I heard her steps proceed to the
pantry. I saw Mr. Pumblechook balance his knife. I saw re-
awakening appetite in the Roman nostrils of Mr. Wopsle. I heard
Mr. Hubble remark that 'a bit of savoury pork pie would lay
atop of anything you could mention, and do no harm,' and I heard
Joe say, 'You shall have some, Pip.' I never have been absolutely
certain whether I uttered a shrill yell of terror, merely in spirit, or
in the bodily hearing of the company. I felt that I could bear no
more, and that I must run away. I released the leg of the table,
and ran for my life.

But I ran no further than the house door, for there I ran head
foremost into a party of soldiers with their muskets: one of whom
held out a pair of handcuffs to me, saying, 'Here you are, look
sharp, come on!'

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