Mr Tupman again expressed an earnest wish to be present at the ball. However he found no interest in the disapproving eye of Mr Snodgrass, or the abstracted gaze of Mr Pickwick. Therefore he took great interest in the port wine and dessert, which had just been placed on the table. The waiter went away, and the party were left to enjoy a cosy couple of hours after dinner.

'Excuse me, sir,' said the stranger, 'the bottle is not moving - pass it round - way of the sun,' and he emptied his glass, which he had filled about two minutes before, and poured out another, looking like a man who was used to doing it.

The wine was passed, and more was ordered. The visitor talked, the Pickwickians listened.

Mr Tupman more and more wanted to go to the ball. Mr Pickwick's face glowed with an expression of goodwill to everyone, and Mr Winkle and Mr Snodgrass fell fast asleep.

'They're beginning upstairs,' said the stranger - 'hear the musicians - fiddles tuning - now the harp - there they go.' The various sounds which came downstairs announced the commencement of the first quadrille.