He was fatter than ever.
'Well, you look rosy enough, my young friend,' said Mr.Pickwick.
'I've been asleep, right in front of the taproom fire,' replied the fat boy, who had heated himself to the colour of a new chimney-pot, in the course of an hour's nap.

'Master sent me over with the shay-cart, to carry your luggage up to the house.

He'd ha' sent some saddle-horses, but he thought you'd rather walk, being a cold day.' 'Yes, yes,' said Mr.Pickwick hastily, for he remembered how they had travelled over nearly the same ground on a previous occasion.

'Yes, we would rather walk.

Here, Sam!' 'Sir,' said Mr.Weller.
'Help Mr.Wardle's servant to put the packages into the cart, and then ride on with him.