three o’clock
A distant response is heard from the yard , and Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman come running down it , quite out of breath , for they have been having a glass of ale a-piece , and Mr. Pickwick 's fingers are so cold that he has been full five minutes before he could find the sixpence to pay for it . The coachman shouts an admonitory ` Now then , gen ' l 'm ' n , ' the guard re-echoes it ; the old gentleman inside thinks it a very extraordinary thing that people _ will _ get down when they know there is n't time for it ; Mr. Pickwick struggles up on one side , Mr. Tupman on the other ; Mr. Winkle cries ` All right ' ; and off they start . Shawls are pulled up , coat collars are readjusted , the pavement ceases , the houses disappear ; and they are once again dashing along the open road , with the fresh clear air blowing in their faces , and gladdening their very hearts within them . Such was the progress of Mr. Pickwick and his friends by the Muggleton Telegraph , on their way to Dingley Dell ; and at three o'clock that afternoon they all stood high and dry , safe and sound , hale and hearty , upon the steps of the Blue Lion , having taken on the road quite enough of ale and brandy , to enable them to bid defiance to the frost that was binding up the earth in its iron fetters , and weaving its beautiful network upon the trees and hedges . Mr. Pickwick was busily engaged in counting the barrels of oysters and superintending the disinterment of the cod-fish , when he felt himself gently pulled by the skirts of the coat . Looking round , he discovered that the individual who resorted to this mode of catching his attention was no other than Mr. Wardle 's favourite page , better known to the readers of this unvarnished history , by the distinguishing appellation of the fat boy . ` Aha ! '