Chapter 35

by Charles Dickens

　　Smike becomes known to Mrs Nickleby and Kate. Nicholas also meetswith new Acquaintances. Brighter Days seem to dawn upon the FamilyHaving established his mother and sister in the apartments of thekind-hearted miniature painter, and ascertained that Sir MulberryHawk was in no danger of losing his life, Nicholas turned histhoughts to poor Smike, who, after breakfasting with Newman Noggs,had remained, in a disconsolate state, at that worthy creature'slodgings, waiting, with much anxiety, for further intelligence ofhis protector.'As he will be one of our own little household, wherever we live, orwhatever fortune is in reserve for us,' thought Nicholas, 'I mustpresent the poor fellow in due form. They will be kind to him forhis own sake, and if not (on that account solely) to the full extentI could wish, they will stretch a point, I am sure, for mine.'Nicholas said 'they', but his misgivings were confined to oneperson. He was sure of Kate, but he knew his mother'speculiarities, and was not quite so certain that Smike would findfavour in the eyes of Mrs Nickleby.'However,' thought Nicholas as he departed on his benevolent errand;'she cannot fail to become attached to him, when she knows what adevoted creature he is, and as she must quickly make the discovery,his probation will be a short one.''I was afraid,' said Smike, overjoyed to see his friend again, 'thatyou had fallen into some fresh trouble; the time seemed so long, atlast, that I almost feared you were lost.''Lost!' replied Nicholas gaily. 'You will not be rid of me soeasily, I promise you. I shall rise to the surface many thousandtimes yet, and the harder the thrust that pushes me down, the morequickly I shall rebound, Smike. But come; my errand here is to takeyou home.''Home!' faltered Smike, drawing timidly back.'Ay,' rejoined Nicholas, taking his arm. 'Why not?''I had such hopes once,' said Smike; 'day and night, day and night,for many years. I longed for home till I was weary, and pined awaywith grief, but now--''And what now?' asked Nicholas, looking kindly in his face. 'Whatnow, old friend?''I could not part from you to go to any home on earth,' repliedSmike, pressing his hand; 'except one, except one. I shall never bean old man; and if your hand placed me in the grave, and I couldthink, before I died, that you would come and look upon it sometimeswith one of your kind smiles, and in the summer weather, wheneverything was alive--not dead like me--I could go to that homealmost without a tear.''Why do you talk thus, poor boy, if your life is a happy one withme?' said Nicholas.'Because I should change; not those about me. And if they forgotme, I should never know it,' replied Smike. 'In the churchyard weare all alike, but here there are none like me. I am a poorcreature, but I know that.''You are a foolish, silly creature,' said Nicholas cheerfully. 'Ifthat is what you mean, I grant you that. Why, here's a dismal facefor ladies' company!--my pretty sister too, whom you have so oftenasked me about. Is this your Yorkshire gallantry? For shame! forshame!'Smike brightened up and smiled.'When I talk of home,' pursued Nicholas, 'I talk of mine--which isyours of course. If it were defined by any particular four wallsand a roof, God knows I should be sufficiently puzzled to saywhereabouts it lay; but that is not what I mean. When I speak ofhome, I speak of the place where--in default of a better--those Ilove are gathered together; and if that place were a gypsy's tent,or a barn, I should call it by the same good name notwithstanding.And now, for what is my present home, which, however alarming yourexpectations may be, will neither terrify you by its extent nor itsmagnificence!'So saying, Nicholas took his companion by the arm, and saying agreat deal more to the same purpose, and pointing out various thingsto amuse and interest him as they went along, led the way to Miss LaCreevy's house.'And this, Kate,' said Nicholas, entering the room where his sistersat alone, 'is the faithful friend and affectionate fellow-travellerwhom I prepared you to receive.'Poor Smike was bashful, and awkward, and frightened enough, atfirst, but Kate advanced towards him so kindly, and said, in such asweet voice, how anxious she had been to see him after all herbrother had told her, and how much she had to thank him for havingcomforted Nicholas so greatly in their very trying reverses, that hebegan to be very doubtful whether he should shed tears or not, andbecame still more flurried. However, he managed to say, in a brokenvoice, that Nicholas was his only friend, and that he would lay downhis life to help him; and Kate, although she was so kind andconsiderate, seemed to be so wholly unconscious of his distress andembarrassment, that he recovered almost immediately and felt quiteat home.Then, Miss La Creevy came in; and to her Smike had to be presentedalso. And Miss La Creevy was very kind too, and wonderfullytalkative: not to Smike, for that would have made him uneasy atfirst, but to Nicholas and his sister. Then, after a time, shewould speak to Smike himself now and then, asking him whether he wasa judge of likenesses, and whether he thought that picture in thecorner was like herself, and whether he didn't think it would havelooked better if she had made herself ten years younger, and whetherhe didn't think, as a matter of general observation, that youngladies looked better not only in pictures, but out of them too, thanold ones; with many more small jokes and facetious remarks, whichwere delivered with such good-humour and merriment, that Smikethought, within himself, she was the nicest lady he had ever seen;even nicer than Mrs Grudden, of Mr Vincent Crummles's theatre; andshe was a nice lady too, and talked, perhaps more, but certainlylouder, than Miss La Creevy.At length the door opened again, and a lady in mourning came in; andNicholas kissing the lady in mourning affectionately, and callingher his mother, led her towards the chair from which Smike had risenwhen she entered the room.'You are always kind-hearted, and anxious to help the oppressed, mydear mother,' said Nicholas, 'so you will be favourably disposedtowards him, I know.''I am sure, my dear Nicholas,' replied Mrs Nickleby, looking veryhard at her new friend, and bending to him with something more ofmajesty than the occasion seemed to require: 'I am sure any friendof yours has, as indeed he naturally ought to have, and must have,of course, you know, a great claim upon me, and of course, it is avery great pleasure to me to be introduced to anybody you take aninterest in. There can he no doubt about that; none at all; not theleast in the world,' said Mrs Nickleby. 'At the same time I mustsay, Nicholas, my dear, as I used to say to your poor dear papa,when he would bring gentlemen home to dinner, and there was nothingin the house, that if he had come the day before yesterday--no, Idon't mean the day before yesterday now; I should have said,perhaps, the year before last--we should have been better able toentertain him.'With which remarks, Mrs Nickleby turned to her daughter, andinquired, in an audible whisper, whether the gentleman was going tostop all night.'Because, if he is, Kate, my dear,' said Mrs Nickleby, 'I don't seethat it's possible for him to sleep anywhere, and that's the truth.'Kate stepped gracefully forward, and without any show of annoyanceor irritation, breathed a few words into her mother's ear.'La, Kate, my dear,' said Mrs Nickleby, shrinking back, 'how you dotickle one! Of course, I understand that, my love, without yourtelling me; and I said the same to Nicholas, and I am very muchpleased. You didn't tell me, Nicholas, my dear,' added MrsNickleby, turning round with an air of less reserve than she hadbefore assumed, 'what your friend's name is.''His name, mother,' replied Nicholas, 'is Smike.'The effect of this communication was by no means anticipated; butthe name was no sooner pronounced, than Mrs Nickleby dropped upon achair, and burst into a fit of crying.'What is the matter?' exclaimed Nicholas, running to support her.'It's so like Pyke,' cried Mrs Nickleby; 'so exactly like Pyke. Oh!don't speak to me--I shall be better presently.'And after exhibiting every symptom of slow suffocation in all itsstages, and drinking about a tea-spoonful of water from a fulltumbler, and spilling the remainder, Mrs Nickleby was better, andremarked, with a feeble smile, that she was very foolish, she knew.'It's a weakness in our family,' said Mrs Nickleby, 'so, of course,I can't be blamed for it. Your grandmama, Kate, was exactly thesame--precisely. The least excitement, the slightest surprise--shefainted away directly. I have heard her say, often and often, thatwhen she was a young lady, and before she was married, she wasturning a corner into Oxford Street one day, when she ran againsther own hairdresser, who, it seems, was escaping from a bear;--themere suddenness of the encounter made her faint away directly.Wait, though,' added Mrs Nickleby, pausing to consider. 'Let me besure I'm right. Was it her hairdresser who had escaped from a bear,or was it a bear who had escaped from her hairdresser's? I declareI can't remember just now, but the hairdresser was a very handsomeman, I know, and quite a gentleman in his manners; so that it hasnothing to do with the point of the story.'Mrs Nickleby having fallen imperceptibly into one of herretrospective moods, improved in temper from that moment, andglided, by an easy change of the conversation occasionally, intovarious other anecdotes, no less remarkable for their strictapplication to the subject in hand.'Mr Smike is from Yorkshire, Nicholas, my dear?' said Mrs Nickleby,after dinner, and when she had been silent for some time.'Certainly, mother,' replied Nicholas. 'I see you have notforgotten his melancholy history.''O dear no,' cried Mrs Nickleby. 'Ah! melancholy, indeed. Youdon't happen, Mr Smike, ever to have dined with the Grimbles ofGrimble Hall, somewhere in the North Riding, do you?' said the goodlady, addressing herself to him. 'A very proud man, Sir ThomasGrimble, with six grown-up and most lovely daughters, and the finestpark in the county.''My dear mother,' reasoned Nicholas, 'do you suppose that theunfortunate outcast of a Yorkshire school was likely to receive manycards of invitation from the nobility and gentry in theneighbourhood?''Really, my dear, I don't know why it should be so veryextraordinary,' said Mrs Nickleby. 'I know that when I was atschool, I always went at least twice every half-year to theHawkinses at Taunton Vale, and they are much richer than theGrimbles, and connected with them in marriage; so you see it's notso very unlikely, after all.'Having put down Nicholas in this triumphant manner, Mrs Nickleby wassuddenly seized with a forgetfulness of Smike's real name, and anirresistible tendency to call him Mr Slammons; which circumstanceshe attributed to the remarkable similarity of the two names inpoint of sound both beginning with an S, and moreover being speltwith an M. But whatever doubt there might be on this point, therewas none as to his being a most excellent listener; whichcircumstance had considerable influence in placing them on the verybest terms, and inducing Mrs Nickleby to express the highest opinionof his general deportment and disposition.Thus, the little circle remained, on the most amicable and agreeablefooting, until the Monday morning, when Nicholas withdrew himselffrom it for a short time, seriously to reflect upon the state of hisaffairs, and to determine, if he could, upon some course of life,which would enable him to support those who were so entirelydependent upon his exertions.Mr Crummles occurred to him more than once; but although Kate wasacquainted with the whole history of his connection with thatgentleman, his mother was not; and he foresaw a thousand fretfulobjections, on her part, to his seeking a livelihood upon the stage.There were graver reasons, too, against his returning to that modeof life. Independently of those arising out of its spare andprecarious earnings, and his own internal conviction that he couldnever hope to aspire to any great distinction, even as a provincialactor, how could he carry his sister from town to town, and place toplace, and debar her from any other associates than those with whomhe would be compelled, almost without distinction, to mingle? 'Itwon't do,' said Nicholas, shaking his head; 'I must try somethingelse.'It was much easier to make this resolution than to carry it intoeffect. With no greater experience of the world than he hadacquired for himself in his short trials; with a sufficient share ofheadlong rashness and precipitation (qualities not altogetherunnatural at his time of life); with a very slender stock of money,and a still more scanty stock of friends; what could he do? 'Egad!'said Nicholas, 'I'll try that Register Office again.'He smiled at himself as he walked away with a quick step; for, aninstant before, he had been internally blaming his ownprecipitation. He did not laugh himself out of the intention,however, for on he went: picturing to himself, as he approached theplace, all kinds of splendid possibilities, and impossibilities too,for that matter, and thinking himself, perhaps with good reason,very fortunate to be endowed with so buoyant and sanguine atemperament.The office looked just the same as when he had left it last, and,indeed, with one or two exceptions, there seemed to be the very sameplacards in the window that he had seen before. There were the sameunimpeachable masters and mistresses in want of virtuous servants,and the same virtuous servants in want of unimpeachable masters andmistresses, and the same magnificent estates for the investment ofcapital, and the same enormous quantities of capital to be investedin estates, and, in short, the same opportunities of all sorts forpeople who wanted to make their fortunes. And a most extraordinaryproof it was of the national prosperity, that people had not beenfound to avail themselves of such advantages long ago.As Nicholas stopped to look in at the window, an old gentlemanhappened to stop too; and Nicholas, carrying his eye along thewindow-panes from left to right in search of some capital-textplacard which should be applicable to his own case, caught sight ofthis old gentleman's figure, and instinctively withdrew his eyesfrom the window, to observe the same more closely.He was a sturdy old fellow in a broad-skirted blue coat, made prettylarge, to fit easily, and with no particular waist; his bulky legsclothed in drab breeches and high gaiters, and his head protected bya low-crowned broad-brimmed white hat, such as a wealthy graziermight wear. He wore his coat buttoned; and his dimpled double chinrested in the folds of a white neckerchief--not one of your stiff-starched apoplectic cravats, but a good, easy, old-fashioned whiteneckcloth that a man might go to bed in and be none the worse for.But what principally attracted the attention of Nicholas was the oldgentleman's eye,--never was such a clear, twinkling, honest, merry,happy eye, as that. And there he stood, looking a little upward,with one hand thrust into the breast of his coat, and the otherplaying with his old-fashioned gold watch-chain: his head thrown alittle on one side, and his hat a little more on one side than hishead, (but that was evidently accident; not his ordinary way ofwearing it,) with such a pleasant smile playing about his mouth, andsuch a comical expression of mingled slyness, simplicity, kind-heartedness, and good-humour, lighting up his jolly old face, thatNicholas would have been content to have stood there and looked athim until evening, and to have forgotten, meanwhile, that there wassuch a thing as a soured mind or a crabbed countenance to be metwith in the whole wide world.But, even a very remote approach to this gratification was not to bemade, for although he seemed quite unconscious of having been thesubject of observation, he looked casually at Nicholas; and thelatter, fearful of giving offence, resumed his scrutiny of thewindow instantly.Still, the old gentleman stood there, glancing from placard toplacard, and Nicholas could not forbear raising his eyes to his faceagain. Grafted upon the quaintness and oddity of his appearance,was something so indescribably engaging, and bespeaking so muchworth, and there were so many little lights hovering about thecorners of his mouth and eyes, that it was not a mere amusement, buta positive pleasure and delight to look at him.This being the case, it is no wonder that the old man caughtNicholas in the fact, more than once. At such times, Nicholascoloured and looked embarrassed: for the truth is, that he had begunto wonder whether the stranger could, by any possibility, be lookingfor a clerk or secretary; and thinking this, he felt as if the oldgentleman must know it.Long as all this takes to tell, it was not more than a couple ofminutes in passing. As the stranger was moving away, Nicholascaught his eye again, and, in the awkwardness of the moment,stammered out an apology.'No offence. Oh no offence!' said the old man.This was said in such a hearty tone, and the voice was so exactlywhat it should have been from such a speaker, and there was such acordiality in the manner, that Nicholas was emboldened to speakagain.'A great many opportunities here, sir,' he said, half smiling as hemotioned towards the window.'A great many people willing and anxious to be employed haveseriously thought so very often, I dare say,' replied the old man.'Poor fellows, poor fellows!'He moved away as he said this; but seeing that Nicholas was about tospeak, good-naturedly slackened his pace, as if he were unwilling tocut him short. After a little of that hesitation which may besometimes observed between two people in the street who haveexchanged a nod, and are both uncertain whether they shall turn backand speak, or not, Nicholas found himself at the old man's side.'You were about to speak, young gentleman; what were you going tosay?''Merely that I almost hoped--I mean to say, thought--you had someobject in consulting those advertisements,' said Nicholas.'Ay, ay? what object now--what object?' returned the old man,looking slyly at Nicholas. 'Did you think I wanted a situation now--eh? Did you think I did?'Nicholas shook his head.'Ha! ha!' laughed the old gentleman, rubbing his hands and wrists asif he were washing them. 'A very natural thought, at all events,after seeing me gazing at those bills. I thought the same of you,at first; upon my word I did.''If you had thought so at last, too, sir, you would not have beenfar from the truth,' rejoined Nicholas.'Eh?' cried the old man, surveying him from head to foot. 'What!Dear me! No, no. Well-behaved young gentleman reduced to such anecessity! No no, no no.'Nicholas bowed, and bidding him good-morning, turned upon his heel.'Stay,' said the old man, beckoning him into a bye street, where theycould converse with less interruption. 'What d'ye mean, eh?''Merely that your kind face and manner--both so unlike any I haveever seen--tempted me into an avowal, which, to any other strangerin this wilderness of London, I should not have dreamt of making,'returned Nicholas.'Wilderness! Yes, it is, it is. Good! It is a wilderness,' saidthe old man with much animation. 'It was a wilderness to me once.I came here barefoot. I have never forgotten it. Thank God!' and heraised his hat from his head, and looked very grave.'What's the matter? What is it? How did it all come about?' said theold man, laying his hand on the shoulder of Nicholas, and walkinghim up the street. 'You're--Eh?' laying his finger on the sleeve ofhis black coat. 'Who's it for, eh?''My father,' replied Nicholas.'Ah!' said the old gentleman quickly. 'Bad thing for a young man tolose his father. Widowed mother, perhaps?'Nicholas sighed.'Brothers and sisters too? Eh?''One sister,' rejoined Nicholas.'Poor thing, poor thing! You are a scholar too, I dare say?' saidthe old man, looking wistfully into the face of the young one.'I have been tolerably well educated,' said Nicholas.'Fine thing,' said the old gentleman, 'education a great thing: avery great thing! I never had any. I admire it the more in others.A very fine thing. Yes, yes. Tell me more of your history. Let mehear it all. No impertinent curiosity--no, no, no.'There was something so earnest and guileless in the way in which allthis was said, and such a complete disregard of all conventionalrestraints and coldnesses, that Nicholas could not resist it. Amongmen who have any sound and sterling qualities, there is nothing socontagious as pure openness of heart. Nicholas took the infectioninstantly, and ran over the main points of his little historywithout reserve: merely suppressing names, and touching as lightlyas possible upon his uncle's treatment of Kate. The old manlistened with great attention, and when he had concluded, drew hisarm eagerly through his own.'Don't say another word. Not another word' said he. 'Come alongwith me. We mustn't lose a minute.'So saying, the old gentleman dragged him back into Oxford Street,and hailing an omnibus on its way to the city, pushed Nicholas inbefore him, and followed himself.As he appeared in a most extraordinary condition of restlessexcitement, and whenever Nicholas offered to speak, immediatelyinterposed with: 'Don't say another word, my dear sir, on anyaccount--not another word,' the young man thought it better toattempt no further interruption. Into the city they journeyedaccordingly, without interchanging any conversation; and the fartherthey went, the more Nicholas wondered what the end of the adventurecould possibly be.The old gentleman got out, with great alacrity, when they reachedthe Bank, and once more taking Nicholas by the arm, hurried himalong Threadneedle Street, and through some lanes and passages onthe right, until they, at length, emerged in a quiet shady littlesquare. Into the oldest and cleanest-looking house of business inthe square, he led the way. The only inscription on the door-postwas 'Cheeryble, Brothers;' but from a hasty glance at the directionsof some packages which were lying about, Nicholas supposed that thebrothers Cheeryble were German merchants.Passing through a warehouse which presented every indication of athriving business, Mr Cheeryble (for such Nicholas supposed him tobe, from the respect which had been shown him by the warehousemenand porters whom they passed) led him into a little partitioned-offcounting-house like a large glass case, in which counting-housethere sat--as free from dust and blemish as if he had been fixedinto the glass case before the top was put on, and had never comeout since--a fat, elderly, large-faced clerk, with silver spectaclesand a powdered head.'Is my brother in his room, Tim?' said Mr Cheeryble, with no lesskindness of manner than he had shown to Nicholas.'Yes, he is, sir,' replied the fat clerk, turning his spectacle-glasses towards his principal, and his eyes towards Nicholas, 'butMr Trimmers is with him.''Ay! And what has he come about, Tim?' said Mr Cheeryble.'He is getting up a subscription for the widow and family of a manwho was killed in the East India Docks this morning, sir,' rejoinedTim. 'Smashed, sir, by a cask of sugar.''He is a good creature,' said Mr Cheeryble, with great earnestness.'He is a kind soul. I am very much obliged to Trimmers. Trimmersis one of the best friends we have. He makes a thousand cases knownto us that we should never discover of ourselves. I am very muchobliged to Trimmers.' Saying which, Mr Cheeryble rubbed his handswith infinite delight, and Mr Trimmers happening to pass the doorthat instant, on his way out, shot out after him and caught him bythe hand.'I owe you a thousand thanks, Trimmers, ten thousand thanks. I takeit very friendly of you, very friendly indeed,' said Mr Cheeryble,dragging him into a corner to get out of hearing. 'How manychildren are there, and what has my brother Ned given, Trimmers?''There are six children,' replied the gentleman, 'and your brotherhas given us twenty pounds.''My brother Ned is a good fellow, and you're a good fellow too,Trimmers,' said the old man, shaking him by both hands withtrembling eagerness. 'Put me down for another twenty--or--stop aminute, stop a minute. We mustn't look ostentatious; put me downten pound, and Tim Linkinwater ten pound. A cheque for twenty poundfor Mr Trimmers, Tim. God bless you, Trimmers--and come and dinewith us some day this week; you'll always find a knife and fork, andwe shall be delighted. Now, my dear sir--cheque from MrLinkinwater, Tim. Smashed by a cask of sugar, and six poorchildren--oh dear, dear, dear!'Talking on in this strain, as fast as he could, to prevent anyfriendly remonstrances from the collector of the subscription on thelarge amount of his donation, Mr Cheeryble led Nicholas, equallyastonished and affected by what he had seen and heard in this shortspace, to the half-opened door of another room.'Brother Ned,' said Mr Cheeryble, tapping with his knuckles, andstooping to listen, 'are you busy, my dear brother, or can you sparetime for a word or two with me?''Brother Charles, my dear fellow,' replied a voice from the inside,so like in its tones to that which had just spoken, that Nicholasstarted, and almost thought it was the same, 'don't ask me such aquestion, but come in directly.'They went in, without further parley. What was the amazement ofNicholas when his conductor advanced, and exchanged a warm greetingwith another old gentleman, the very type and model of himself--thesame face, the same figure, the same coat, waistcoat, and neckcloth,the same breeches and gaiters--nay, there was the very same whitehat hanging against the wall!As they shook each other by the hand: the face of each lighted up bybeaming looks of affection, which would have been most delightful tobehold in infants, and which, in men so old, was inexpressiblytouching: Nicholas could observe that the last old gentleman wassomething stouter than his brother; this, and a slight additionalshade of clumsiness in his gait and stature, formed the onlyperceptible difference between them. Nobody could have doubtedtheir being twin brothers.'Brother Ned,' said Nicholas's friend, closing the room-door, 'hereis a young friend of mine whom we must assist. We must make properinquiries into his statements, in justice to him as well as toourselves, and if they are confirmed--as I feel assured they willbe--we must assist him, we must assist him, brother Ned.''It is enough, my dear brother, that you say we should,' returnedthe other. 'When you say that, no further inquiries are needed. Heshall be assisted. What are his necessities, and what does herequire? Where is Tim Linkinwater? Let us have him here.'Both the brothers, it may be here remarked, had a very emphatic andearnest delivery; both had lost nearly the same teeth, whichimparted the same peculiarity to their speech; and both spoke as if,besides possessing the utmost serenity of mind that the kindliestand most unsuspecting nature could bestow, they had, in collectingthe plums from Fortune's choicest pudding, retained a few forpresent use, and kept them in their mouths.'Where is Tim Linkinwater?' said brother Ned.'Stop, stop, stop!' said brother Charles, taking the other aside.'I've a plan, my dear brother, I've a plan. Tim is getting old, andTim has been a faithful servant, brother Ned; and I don't thinkpensioning Tim's mother and sister, and buying a little tomb for thefamily when his poor brother died, was a sufficient recompense forhis faithful services.''No, no, no,' replied the other. 'Certainly not. Not half enough,not half.''If we could lighten Tim's duties,' said the old gentleman, 'andprevail upon him to go into the country, now and then, and sleep inthe fresh air, besides, two or three times a week (which he could,if he began business an hour later in the morning), old TimLinkinwater would grow young again in time; and he's three goodyears our senior now. Old Tim Linkinwater young again! Eh, brotherNed, eh? Why, I recollect old Tim Linkinwater quite a little boy,don't you? Ha, ha, ha! Poor Tim, poor Tim!'And the fine old fellows laughed pleasantly together: each with atear of regard for old Tim Linkinwater standing in his eye.'But hear this first--hear this first, brother Ned,' said the oldman, hastily, placing two chairs, one on each side of Nicholas:'I'll tell it you myself, brother Ned, because the young gentlemanis modest, and is a scholar, Ned, and I shouldn't feel it right thathe should tell us his story over and over again as if he was abeggar, or as if we doubted him. No, no no.''No, no, no,' returned the other, nodding his head gravely. 'Veryright, my dear brother, very right.''He will tell me I'm wrong, if I make a mistake,' said Nicholas'sfriend. 'But whether I do or not, you'll be very much affected,brother Ned, remembering the time when we were two friendless lads,and earned our first shilling in this great city.'The twins pressed each other's hands in silence; and in his ownhomely manner, brother Charles related the particulars he had heardfrom Nicholas. The conversation which ensued was a long one, andwhen it was over, a secret conference of almost equal duration tookplace between brother Ned and Tim Linkinwater in another room. Itis no disparagement to Nicholas to say, that before he had beencloseted with the two brothers ten minutes, he could only wave hishand at every fresh expression of kindness and sympathy, and soblike a little child.At length brother Ned and Tim Linkinwater came back together, whenTim instantly walked up to Nicholas and whispered in his ear in avery brief sentence (for Tim was ordinarily a man of few words),that he had taken down the address in the Strand, and would callupon him that evening, at eight. Having done which, Tim wiped hisspectacles and put them on, preparatory to hearing what more thebrothers Cheeryble had got to say.'Tim,' said brother Charles, 'you understand that we have anintention of taking this young gentleman into the counting-house?'Brother Ned remarked that Tim was aware of that intention, and quiteapproved of it; and Tim having nodded, and said he did, drew himselfup and looked particularly fat, and very important. After which,there was a profound silence.'I'm not coming an hour later in the morning, you know,' said Tim,breaking out all at once, and looking very resolute. 'I'm not goingto sleep in the fresh air; no, nor I'm not going into the countryeither. A pretty thing at this time of day, certainly. Pho!''Damn your obstinacy, Tim Linkinwater,' said brother Charles,looking at him without the faintest spark of anger, and with acountenance radiant with attachment to the old clerk. 'Damn yourobstinacy, Tim Linkinwater, what do you mean, sir?''It's forty-four year,' said Tim, making a calculation in the airwith his pen, and drawing an imaginary line before he cast it up,'forty-four year, next May, since I first kept the books ofCheeryble, Brothers. I've opened the safe every morning all thattime (Sundays excepted) as the clock struck nine, and gone over thehouse every night at half-past ten (except on Foreign Post nights,and then twenty minutes before twelve) to see the doors fastened,and the fires out. I've never slept out of the back-attic onesingle night. There's the same mignonette box in the middle of thewindow, and the same four flower-pots, two on each side, that Ibrought with me when I first came. There an't--I've said it againand again, and I'll maintain it--there an't such a square as this inthe world. I know there an't,' said Tim, with sudden energy, andlooking sternly about him. 'Not one. For business or pleasure, insummer-time or winter--I don't care which--there's nothing like it.There's not such a spring in England as the pump under the archway.There's not such a view in England as the view out of my window;I've seen it every morning before I shaved, and I ought to knowsomething about it. I have slept in that room,' added Tim, sinkinghis voice a little, 'for four-and-forty year; and if it wasn'tinconvenient, and didn't interfere with business, I should requestleave to die there.''Damn you, Tim Linkinwater, how dare you talk about dying?' roaredthe twins by one impulse, and blowing their old noses violently.'That's what I've got to say, Mr Edwin and Mr Charles,' said Tim,squaring his shoulders again. 'This isn't the first time you'vetalked about superannuating me; but, if you please, we'll make itthe last, and drop the subject for evermore.'With these words, Tim Linkinwater stalked out, and shut himself upin his glass case, with the air of a man who had had his say, andwas thoroughly resolved not to be put down.The brothers interchanged looks, and coughed some half-dozen timeswithout speaking.'He must be done something with, brother Ned,' said the other,warmly; 'we must disregard his old scruples; they can't betolerated, or borne. He must be made a partner, brother Ned; and ifhe won't submit to it peaceably, we must have recourse to violence.''Quite right,' replied brother Ned, nodding his head as a manthoroughly determined; 'quite right, my dear brother. If he won'tlisten to reason, we must do it against his will, and show him thatwe are determined to exert our authority. We must quarrel with him,brother Charles.''We must. We certainly must have a quarrel with Tim Linkinwater,'said the other. 'But in the meantime, my dear brother, we arekeeping our young friend; and the poor lady and her daughter will beanxious for his return. So let us say goodbye for the present, and--there, there--take care of that box, my dear sir--and--no, no, nota word now; but be careful of the crossings and--'And with any disjointed and unconnected words which would preventNicholas from pouring forth his thanks, the brothers hurried himout: shaking hands with him all the way, and affecting veryunsuccessfully--they were poor hands at deception!--to be whollyunconscious of the feelings that completely mastered him.Nicholas's heart was too full to allow of his turning into thestreet until he had recovered some composure. When he at lastglided out of the dark doorway corner in which he had been compelledto halt, he caught a glimpse of the twins stealthily peeping in atone corner of the glass case, evidently undecided whether theyshould follow up their late attack without delay, or for the presentpostpone laying further siege to the inflexible Tim Linkinwater.To recount all the delight and wonder which the circumstances justdetailed awakened at Miss La Creevy's, and all the things that weredone, said, thought, expected, hoped, and prophesied in consequence,is beside the present course and purpose of these adventures. It issufficient to state, in brief, that Mr Timothy Linkinwater arrived,punctual to his appointment; that, oddity as he was, and jealous, ashe was bound to be, of the proper exercise of his employers' mostcomprehensive liberality, he reported strongly and warmly in favourof Nicholas; and that, next day, he was appointed to the vacantstool in the counting-house of Cheeryble, Brothers, with a presentsalary of one hundred and twenty pounds a year.'And I think, my dear brother,' said Nicholas's first friend, 'thatif we were to let them that little cottage at Bow which is empty, atsomething under the usual rent, now? Eh, brother Ned?''For nothing at all,' said brother Ned. 'We are rich, and should beashamed to touch the rent under such circumstances as these. Whereis Tim Linkinwater?--for nothing at all, my dear brother, fornothing at all.''Perhaps it would be better to say something, brother Ned,'suggested the other, mildly; 'it would help to preserve habits offrugality, you know, and remove any painful sense of overwhelmingobligations. We might say fifteen pound, or twenty pound, and if itwas punctually paid, make it up to them in some other way. And Imight secretly advance a small loan towards a little furniture, andyou might secretly advance another small loan, brother Ned; and ifwe find them doing well--as we shall; there's no fear, no fear--wecan change the loans into gifts. Carefully, brother Ned, and bydegrees, and without pressing upon them too much; what do you saynow, brother?'Brother Ned gave his hand upon it, and not only said it should bedone, but had it done too; and, in one short week, Nicholas tookpossession of the stool, and Mrs Nickleby and Kate took possessionof the house, and all was hope, bustle, and light-heartedness.There surely never was such a week of discoveries and surprises asthe first week of that cottage. Every night when Nicholas camehome, something new had been found out. One day it was a grapevine,and another day it was a boiler, and another day it was the key ofthe front-parlour closet at the bottom of the water-butt, and so onthrough a hundred items. Then, this room was embellished with amuslin curtain, and that room was rendered quite elegant by awindow-blind, and such improvements were made, as no one would havesupposed possible. Then there was Miss La Creevy, who had come outin the omnibus to stop a day or two and help, and who wasperpetually losing a very small brown-paper parcel of tin tacks anda very large hammer, and running about with her sleeves tucked up atthe wrists, and falling off pairs of steps and hurting herself verymuch--and Mrs Nickleby, who talked incessantly, and did somethingnow and then, but not often--and Kate, who busied herselfnoiselessly everywhere, and was pleased with everything--and Smike,who made the garden a perfect wonder to look upon--and Nicholas, whohelped and encouraged them every one--all the peace and cheerfulnessof home restored, with such new zest imparted to every frugalpleasure, and such delight to every hour of meeting, as misfortuneand separation alone could give!In short, the poor Nicklebys were social and happy; while the richNickleby was alone and miserable.