stopped again.

"Yes, sir," said Mr. Swidger. "That's what I always say, sir. You
may call him the trunk of the tree!--Bread. Then you come to his
successor, my unworthy self--Salt--and Mrs. William, Swidgers
both.--Knife and fork. Then you come to all my brothers and their
families, Swidgers, man and woman, boy and girl. Why, what with
cousins, uncles, aunts, and relationships of this, that, and
t'other degree, and whatnot degree, and marriages, and lyings-in,
the Swidgers--Tumbler--might take hold of hands, and make a ring
round England!"

Receiving no reply at all here, from the thoughtful man whom he
addressed, Mr. William approached, him nearer, and made a feint of
accidentally knocking the table with a decanter, to rouse him. The
moment he succeeded, he went on, as if in great alacrity of
acquiescence.

"Yes, sir! That's just what I say myself, sir. Mrs. William and
me have often said so. 'There's Swidgers enough,' we say, 'without
OUR voluntary contributions,'--Butter. In fact, sir, my father is
a family in himself--Castors--to take care of; and it happens all
for the best that we have no child of our own, though it's made
Mrs. William rather quiet-like, too. Quite ready for the fowl and
mashed potatoes, sir? Mrs. William said she'd dish in ten minutes
when I left the Lodge."

"I am quite ready," said the other, waking as from a dream, and
walking slowly to and fro.