'He wants Miss Tomkins.' Here there was a general scream.
'Ring the alarm bell, somebody!' cried a dozen voices.
'Don't--don't,' shouted Mr.Pickwick.

'Look at me.

Do I look like a robber! My dear ladies--you may bind me hand and leg, or lock me up in a closet, if you like.

Only hear what I have got to say--only hear me.' 'How did you come in our garden ?' faltered the housemaid.
'Call the lady of the house, and I'll tell her everything,' said Mr.
Pickwick, exerting his lungs to the utmost pitch.

'Call her--only be quiet, and call her, and you shall hear everything.' It might have been Mr.Pickwick's appearance, or it might have been his manner, or it might have been the temptation--irresistible to a female mind--of hearing something at present enveloped in mystery, that reduced the more reasonable portion of the establishment (some four individuals) to a state of comparative quiet.