Chapter 37

by Charles Dickens

　　Nicholas finds further Favour in the Eyes of the brothers Cheerybleand Mr Timothy Linkinwater. The brothers give a Banquet on a greatAnnual Occasion. Nicholas, on returning Home from it, receives amysterious and important Disclosure from the Lips of Mrs NicklebyThe square in which the counting-house of the brothers Cheeryble wassituated, although it might not wholly realise the very sanguineexpectations which a stranger would be disposed to form on hearingthe fervent encomiums bestowed upon it by Tim Linkinwater, was,nevertheless, a sufficiently desirable nook in the heart of a busytown like London, and one which occupied a high place in theaffectionate remembrances of several grave persons domiciled in theneighbourhood, whose recollections, however, dated from a much morerecent period, and whose attachment to the spot was far lessabsorbing, than were the recollections and attachment of theenthusiastic Tim.And let not those whose eyes have been accustomed to thearistocratic gravity of Grosvenor Square and Hanover Square, thedowager barrenness and frigidity of Fitzroy Square, or the gravelwalks and garden seats of the Squares of Russell and Euston, supposethat the affections of Tim Linkinwater, or the inferior lovers ofthis particular locality, had been awakened and kept alive by anyrefreshing associations with leaves, however dingy, or grass,however bare and thin. The city square has no enclosure, save thelamp-post in the middle: and no grass, but the weeds which spring upround its base. It is a quiet, little-frequented, retired spot,favourable to melancholy and contemplation, and appointments oflong-waiting; and up and down its every side the Appointed sauntersidly by the hour together wakening the echoes with the monotonoussound of his footsteps on the smooth worn stones, and counting,first the windows, and then the very bricks of the tall silenthouses that hem him round about. In winter-time, the snow willlinger there, long after it has melted from the busy streets andhighways. The summer's sun holds it in some respect, and while hedarts his cheerful rays sparingly into the square, keeps his fieryheat and glare for noisier and less-imposing precincts. It is soquiet, that you can almost hear the ticking of your own watch whenyou stop to cool in its refreshing atmosphere. There is a distanthum--of coaches, not of insects--but no other sound disturbs thestillness of the square. The ticket porter leans idly against thepost at the corner: comfortably warm, but not hot, although the dayis broiling. His white apron flaps languidly in the air, his headgradually droops upon his breast, he takes very long winks with botheyes at once; even he is unable to withstand the soporific influenceof the place, and is gradually falling asleep. But now, he startsinto full wakefulness, recoils a step or two, and gazes out beforehim with eager wildness in his eye. Is it a job, or a boy atmarbles? Does he see a ghost, or hear an organ? No; sight moreunwonted still--there is a butterfly in the square--a real, livebutterfly! astray from flowers and sweets, and fluttering among theiron heads of the dusty area railings.But if there were not many matters immediately without the doors ofCheeryble Brothers, to engage the attention or distract the thoughtsof the young clerk, there were not a few within, to interest andamuse him. There was scarcely an object in the place, animate orinanimate, which did not partake in some degree of the scrupulousmethod and punctuality of Mr Timothy Linkinwater. Punctual as thecounting-house dial, which he maintained to be the best time-keeperin London next after the clock of some old, hidden, unknown churchhard by, (for Tim held the fabled goodness of that at the HorseGuards to be a pleasant fiction, invented by jealous West-enders,)the old clerk performed the minutest actions of the day, andarranged the minutest articles in the little room, in a precise andregular order, which could not have been exceeded if it had actuallybeen a real glass case, fitted with the choicest curiosities.Paper, pens, ink, ruler, sealing-wax, wafers, pounce-box, string-box, fire-box, Tim's hat, Tim's scrupulously-folded gloves, Tim'sother coat--looking precisely like a back view of himself as it hungagainst the wall--all had their accustomed inches of space. Exceptthe clock, there was not such an accurate and unimpeachableinstrument in existence as the little thermometer which hung behindthe door. There was not a bird of such methodical and business-likehabits in all the world, as the blind blackbird, who dreamed anddozed away his days in a large snug cage, and had lost his voice,from old age, years before Tim first bought him. There was not suchan eventful story in the whole range of anecdote, as Tim could tellconcerning the acquisition of that very bird; how, compassionatinghis starved and suffering condition, he had purchased him, with theview of humanely terminating his wretched life; how he determined towait three days and see whether the bird revived; how, before halfthe time was out, the bird did revive; and how he went on revivingand picking up his appetite and good looks until he gradually becamewhat--'what you see him now, sir,'--Tim would say, glancing proudlyat the cage. And with that, Tim would utter a melodious chirrup,and cry 'Dick;' and Dick, who, for any sign of life he hadpreviously given, might have been a wooden or stuffed representationof a blackbird indifferently executed, would come to the side of thecage in three small jumps, and, thrusting his bill between the bars,turn his sightless head towards his old master--and at that momentit would be very difficult to determine which of the two was thehappier, the bird or Tim Linkinwater.Nor was this all. Everything gave back, besides, some reflection ofthe kindly spirit of the brothers. The warehousemen and porterswere such sturdy, jolly fellows, that it was a treat to see them.Among the shipping announcements and steam-packet list's whichdecorated the counting-house wall, were designs for almshouses,statements of charities, and plans for new hospitals. A blunderbussand two swords hung above the chimney-piece, for the terror of evil-doers, but the blunderbuss was rusty and shattered, and the swordswere broken and edgeless. Elsewhere, their open display in such acondition would have realised a smile; but, there, it seemed asthough even violent and offensive weapons partook of the reigninginfluence, and became emblems of mercy and forbearance.Such thoughts as these occurred to Nicholas very strongly, on themorning when he first took possession of the vacant stool, andlooked about him, more freely and at ease, than he had beforeenjoyed an opportunity of doing. Perhaps they encouraged andstimulated him to exertion, for, during the next two weeks, all hisspare hours, late at night and early in the morning, wereincessantly devoted to acquiring the mysteries of book-keeping andsome other forms of mercantile account. To these, he appliedhimself with such steadiness and perseverance that, although hebrought no greater amount of previous knowledge to the subject thancertain dim recollections of two or three very long sums enteredinto a ciphering-book at school, and relieved for parentalinspection by the effigy of a fat swan tastefully flourished by thewriting-master's own hand, he found himself, at the end of afortnight, in a condition to report his proficiency to MrLinkinwater, and to claim his promise that he, Nicholas Nickleby,should now be allowed to assist him in his graver labours.It was a sight to behold Tim Linkinwater slowly bring out a massiveledger and day-book, and, after turning them over and over, andaffectionately dusting their backs and sides, open the leaves hereand there, and cast his eyes, half mournfully, half proudly, uponthe fair and unblotted entries.'Four-and-forty year, next May!' said Tim. 'Many new ledgers sincethen. Four-and-forty year!'Tim closed the book again.'Come, come,' said Nicholas, 'I am all impatience to begin.'Tim Linkinwater shook his head with an air of mild reproof. MrNickleby was not sufficiently impressed with the deep and awfulnature of his undertaking. Suppose there should be any mistake--anyscratching out!Young men are adventurous. It is extraordinary what they will rushupon, sometimes. Without even taking the precaution of sittinghimself down upon his stool, but standing leisurely at the desk, andwith a smile upon his face--actually a smile--there was no mistakeabout it; Mr Linkinwater often mentioned it afterwards--Nicholasdipped his pen into the inkstand before him, and plunged into thebooks of Cheeryble Brothers!Tim Linkinwater turned pale, and tilting up his stool on the twolegs nearest Nicholas, looked over his shoulder in breathlessanxiety. Brother Charles and brother Ned entered the counting-housetogether; but Tim Linkinwater, without looking round, impatientlywaved his hand as a caution that profound silence must be observed,and followed the nib of the inexperienced pen with strained andeager eyes.The brothers looked on with smiling faces, but Tim Linkinwatersmiled not, nor moved for some minutes. At length, he drew a longslow breath, and still maintaining his position on the tilted stool,glanced at brother Charles, secretly pointed with the feather of hispen towards Nicholas, and nodded his head in a grave and resolutemanner, plainly signifying 'He'll do.'Brother Charles nodded again, and exchanged a laughing look withbrother Ned; but, just then, Nicholas stopped to refer to some otherpage, and Tim Linkinwater, unable to contain his satisfaction anylonger, descended from his stool, and caught him rapturously by thehand.'He has done it!' said Tim, looking round at his employers andshaking his head triumphantly. 'His capital B's and D's are exactlylike mine; he dots all his small i's and crosses every t as hewrites it. There an't such a young man as this in all London,' saidTim, clapping Nicholas on the back; 'not one. Don't tell me! Thecity can't produce his equal. I challenge the city to do it!'With this casting down of his gauntlet, Tim Linkinwater struck thedesk such a blow with his clenched fist, that the old blackbirdtumbled off his perch with the start it gave him, and actuallyuttered a feeble croak, in the extremity of his astonishment.'Well said, Tim--well said, Tim Linkinwater!' cried brother Charles,scarcely less pleased than Tim himself, and clapping his handsgently as he spoke. 'I knew our young friend would take greatpains, and I was quite certain he would succeed, in no time. Didn'tI say so, brother Ned?''You did, my dear brother; certainly, my dear brother, you said so,and you were quite right,' replied Ned. 'Quite right. TimLinkinwater is excited, but he is justly excited, properly excited.Tim is a fine fellow. Tim Linkinwater, sir--you're a fine fellow.''Here's a pleasant thing to think of!' said Tim, wholly regardlessof this address to himself, and raising his spectacles from theledger to the brothers. 'Here's a pleasant thing. Do you suppose Ihaven't often thought of what would become of these books when I wasgone? Do you suppose I haven't often thought that things might goon irregular and untidy here, after I was taken away? But now,'said Tim, extending his forefinger towards Nicholas, 'now, when I'veshown him a little more, I'm satisfied. The business will go on,when I'm dead, as well as it did when I was alive--just the same--and I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that there never weresuch books--never were such books! No, nor never will be suchbooks--as the books of Cheeryble Brothers.'Having thus expressed his sentiments, Mr Linkinwater gave vent to ashort laugh, indicative of defiance to the cities of London andWestminster, and, turning again to his desk, quietly carriedseventy-six from the last column he had added up, and went on withhis work.'Tim Linkinwater, sir,' said brother Charles; 'give me your hand,sir. This is your birthday. How dare you talk about anything elsetill you have been wished many happy returns of the day, TimLinkinwater? God bless you, Tim! God bless you!''My dear brother,' said the other, seizing Tim's disengaged fist,'Tim Linkinwater looks ten years younger than he did on his lastbirthday.''Brother Ned, my dear boy,' returned the other old fellow, 'Ibelieve that Tim Linkinwater was born a hundred and fifty years old,and is gradually coming down to five-and-twenty; for he's youngerevery birthday than he was the year before.''So he is, brother Charles, so he is,' replied brother Ned.'There's not a doubt about it.''Remember, Tim,' said brother Charles, 'that we dine at half-pastfive today instead of two o'clock; we always depart from our usualcustom on this anniversary, as you very well know, Tim Linkinwater.Mr Nickleby, my dear sir, you will make one. Tim Linkinwater, giveme your snuff-box as a remembrance to brother Charles and myself ofan attached and faithful rascal, and take that, in exchange, as afeeble mark of our respect and esteem, and don't open it until yougo to bed, and never say another word upon the subject, or I'll killthe blackbird. A dog! He should have had a golden cage half-a-dozen years ago, if it would have made him or his master a bit thehappier. Now, brother Ned, my dear fellow, I'm ready. At half-pastfive, remember, Mr Nickleby! Tim Linkinwater, sir, take care of MrNickleby at half-past five. Now, brother Ned.'Chattering away thus, according to custom, to prevent thepossibility of any thanks or acknowledgment being expressed on theother side, the twins trotted off, arm-in-arm; having endowed TimLinkinwater with a costly gold snuff-box, enclosing a bank noteworth more than its value ten times told.At a quarter past five o'clock, punctual to the minute, arrived,according to annual usage, Tim Linkinwater's sister; and a great to-do there was, between Tim Linkinwater's sister and the oldhousekeeper, respecting Tim Linkinwater's sister's cap, which hadbeen dispatched, per boy, from the house of the family where TimLinkinwater's sister boarded, and had not yet come to hand:notwithstanding that it had been packed up in a bandbox, and thebandbox in a handkerchief, and the handkerchief tied on to the boy'sarm; and notwithstanding, too, that the place of its consignment hadbeen duly set forth, at full length, on the back of an old letter,and the boy enjoined, under pain of divers horrible penalties, thefull extent of which the eye of man could not foresee, to deliverthe same with all possible speed, and not to loiter by the way. TimLinkinwater's sister lamented; the housekeeper condoled; and bothkept thrusting their heads out of the second-floor window to see ifthe boy was 'coming'--which would have been highly satisfactory,and, upon the whole, tantamount to his being come, as the distanceto the corner was not quite five yards--when, all of a sudden, andwhen he was least expected, the messenger, carrying the bandbox withelaborate caution, appeared in an exactly opposite direction,puffing and panting for breath, and flushed with recent exercise; aswell he might be; for he had taken the air, in the first instance,behind a hackney coach that went to Camberwell, and had followed twoPunches afterwards and had seen the Stilts home to their own door.The cap was all safe, however--that was one comfort--and it was nouse scolding him--that was another; so the boy went upon his wayrejoicing, and Tim Linkinwater's sister presented herself to thecompany below-stairs, just five minutes after the half-hour hadstruck by Tim Linkinwater's own infallible clock.The company consisted of the brothers Cheeryble, Tim Linkinwater, aruddy-faced white-headed friend of Tim's (who was a superannuatedbank clerk), and Nicholas, who was presented to Tim Linkinwater'ssister with much gravity and solemnity. The party being nowcompleted, brother Ned rang for dinner, and, dinner being shortlyafterwards announced, led Tim Linkinwater's sister into the nextroom, where it was set forth with great preparation. Then, brotherNed took the head of the table, and brother Charles the foot; andTim Linkinwater's sister sat on the left hand of brother Ned, andTim Linkinwater himself on his right: and an ancient butler ofapoplectic appearance, and with very short legs, took up hisposition at the back of brother Ned's armchair, and, waving hisright arm preparatory to taking off the covers with a flourish,stood bolt upright and motionless.'For these and all other blessings, brother Charles,' said Ned.'Lord, make us truly thankful, brother Ned,' said Charles.Whereupon the apoplectic butler whisked off the top of the souptureen, and shot, all at once, into a state of violent activity.There was abundance of conversation, and little fear of its everflagging, for the good-humour of the glorious old twins dreweverybody out, and Tim Linkinwater's sister went off into a long andcircumstantial account of Tim Linkinwater's infancy, immediatelyafter the very first glass of champagne--taking care to premise thatshe was very much Tim's junior, and had only become acquainted withthe facts from their being preserved and handed down in the family.This history concluded, brother Ned related how that, exactlythirty-five years ago, Tim Linkinwater was suspected to havereceived a love-letter, and how that vague information had beenbrought to the counting-house of his having been seen walking downCheapside with an uncommonly handsome spinster; at which there was aroar of laughter, and Tim Linkinwater being charged with blushing,and called upon to explain, denied that the accusation was true; andfurther, that there would have been any harm in it if it had been;which last position occasioned the superannuated bank clerk to laughtremendously, and to declare that it was the very best thing he hadever heard in his life, and that Tim Linkinwater might say a greatmany things before he said anything which would beat that.There was one little ceremony peculiar to the day, both the matterand manner of which made a very strong impression upon Nicholas.The cloth having been removed and the decanters sent round for thefirst time, a profound silence succeeded, and in the cheerful facesof the brothers there appeared an expression, not of absolutemelancholy, but of quiet thoughtfulness very unusual at a festivetable. As Nicholas, struck by this sudden alteration, was wonderingwhat it could portend, the brothers rose together, and the one atthe top of the table leaning forward towards the other, and speakingin a low voice as if he were addressing him individually, said:'Brother Charles, my dear fellow, there is another associationconnected with this day which must never be forgotten, and never canbe forgotten, by you and me. This day, which brought into the worlda most faithful and excellent and exemplary fellow, took from it thekindest and very best of parents, the very best of parents to usboth. I wish that she could have seen us in our prosperity, andshared it, and had the happiness of knowing how dearly we loved herin it, as we did when we were two poor boys; but that was not to be.My dear brother--The Memory of our Mother.''Good Lord!' thought Nicholas, 'and there are scores of people oftheir own station, knowing all this, and twenty thousand times more,who wouldn't ask these men to dinner because they eat with theirknives and never went to school!'But there was no time to moralise, for the joviality again becamevery brisk, and the decanter of port being nearly out, brother Nedpulled the bell, which was instantly answered by the apoplecticbutler.'David,' said brother Ned.'Sir,' replied the butler.'A magnum of the double-diamond, David, to drink the health of MrLinkinwater.'Instantly, by a feat of dexterity, which was the admiration of allthe company, and had been, annually, for some years past, theapoplectic butler, bringing his left hand from behind the small ofhis back, produced the bottle with the corkscrew already inserted;uncorked it at a jerk; and placed the magnum and the cork before hismaster with the dignity of conscious cleverness.'Ha!' said brother Ned, first examining the cork and afterwardsfilling his glass, while the old butler looked complacently andamiably on, as if it were all his own property, but the company werequite welcome to make free with it, 'this looks well, David.''It ought to, sir,' replied David. 'You'd be troubled to find sucha glass of wine as is our double-diamond, and that Mr Linkinwaterknows very well. That was laid down when Mr Linkinwater first come:that wine was, gentlemen.''Nay, David, nay,' interposed brother Charles.'I wrote the entry in the cellar-book myself, sir, if you please,'said David, in the tone of a man, quite confident in the strength ofhis facts. 'Mr Linkinwater had only been here twenty year, sir,when that pipe of double-diamond was laid down.''David is quite right, quite right, brother Charles," said Ned: 'arethe people here, David?''Outside the door, sir,' replied the butler.'Show 'em in, David, show 'em in.'At this bidding, the older butler placed before his master a smalltray of clean glasses, and opening the door admitted the jollyporters and warehousemen whom Nicholas had seen below. They werefour in all, and as they came in, bowing, and grinning, andblushing, the housekeeper, and cook, and housemaid, brought up therear.'Seven,' said brother Ned, filling a corresponding number of glasseswith the double-diamond, 'and David, eight. There! Now, you're allof you to drink the health of your best friend Mr TimothyLinkinwater, and wish him health and long life and many happyreturns of this day, both for his own sake and that of your oldmasters, who consider him an inestimable treasure. Tim Linkinwater,sir, your health. Devil take you, Tim Linkinwater, sir, God blessyou.'With this singular contradiction of terms, brother Ned gave TimLinkinwater a slap on the back, which made him look, for the moment,almost as apoplectic as the butler: and tossed off the contents ofhis glass in a twinkling.The toast was scarcely drunk with all honour to Tim Linkinwater,when the sturdiest and jolliest subordinate elbowed himself a littlein advance of his fellows, and exhibiting a very hot and flushedcountenance, pulled a single lock of grey hair in the middle of hisforehead as a respectful salute to the company, and deliveredhimself as follows--rubbing the palms of his hands very hard on ablue cotton handkerchief as he did so:'We're allowed to take a liberty once a year, gen'lemen, and if youplease we'll take it now; there being no time like the present, andno two birds in the hand worth one in the bush, as is well known--leastways in a contrairy sense, which the meaning is the same. (Apause--the butler unconvinced.) What we mean to say is, that therenever was (looking at the butler)--such--(looking at the cook)noble--excellent--(looking everywhere and seeing nobody) free,generous-spirited masters as them as has treated us so handsome thisday. And here's thanking of 'em for all their goodness as is soconstancy a diffusing of itself over everywhere, and wishing theymay live long and die happy!'When the foregoing speech was over--and it might have been much moreelegant and much less to the purpose--the whole body of subordinatesunder command of the apoplectic butler gave three soft cheers;which, to that gentleman's great indignation, were not very regular,inasmuch as the women persisted in giving an immense number oflittle shrill hurrahs among themselves, in utter disregard of thetime. This done, they withdrew; shortly afterwards, TimLinkinwater's sister withdrew; in reasonable time after that, thesitting was broken up for tea and coffee, and a round game of cards.At half-past ten--late hours for the square--there appeared a littletray of sandwiches and a bowl of bishop, which bishop coming on thetop of the double-diamond, and other excitements, had such an effectupon Tim Linkinwater, that he drew Nicholas aside, and gave him tounderstand, confidentially, that it was quite true about theuncommonly handsome spinster, and that she was to the full as good-looking as she had been described--more so, indeed--but that she wasin too much of a hurry to change her condition, and consequently,while Tim was courting her and thinking of changing his, got marriedto somebody else. 'After all, I dare say it was my fault,' saidTim. 'I'll show you a print I have got upstairs, one of these days.It cost me five-and-twenty shillings. I bought it soon after wewere cool to each other. Don't mention it, but it's the mostextraordinary accidental likeness you ever saw--her very portrait,sir!'By this time it was past eleven o'clock; and Tim Linkinwater'ssister declaring that she ought to have been at home a full hourago, a coach was procured, into which she was handed with greatceremony by brother Ned, while brother Charles imparted the fullestdirections to the coachman, and besides paying the man a shillingover and above his fare, in order that he might take the utmost careof the lady, all but choked him with a glass of spirits of uncommonstrength, and then nearly knocked all the breath out of his body inhis energetic endeavours to knock it in again.At length the coach rumbled off, and Tim Linkinwater's sister beingnow fairly on her way home, Nicholas and Tim Linkinwater's friendtook their leaves together, and left old Tim and the worthy brothersto their repose.As Nicholas had some distance to walk, it was considerably pastmidnight by the time he reached home, where he found his mother andSmike sitting up to receive him. It was long after their usual hourof retiring, and they had expected him, at the very latest, twohours ago; but the time had not hung heavily on their hands, for MrsNickleby had entertained Smike with a genealogical account of herfamily by the mother's side, comprising biographical sketches of theprincipal members, and Smike had sat wondering what it was allabout, and whether it was learnt from a book, or said out of MrsNickleby's own head; so that they got on together very pleasantly.Nicholas could not go to bed without expatiating on the excellencesand munificence of the brothers Cheeryble, and relating the greatsuccess which had attended his efforts that day. But before he hadsaid a dozen words, Mrs Nickleby, with many sly winks and nods,observed, that she was sure Mr Smike must be quite tired out, andthat she positively must insist on his not sitting up a minutelonger.'A most biddable creature he is, to be sure,' said Mrs Nickleby,when Smike had wished them good-night and left the room. 'I knowyou'll excuse me, Nicholas, my dear, but I don't like to do thisbefore a third person; indeed, before a young man it would not bequite proper, though really, after all, I don't know what harm thereis in it, except that to be sure it's not a very becoming thing,though some people say it is very much so, and really I don't knowwhy it should not be, if it's well got up, and the borders aresmall-plaited; of course, a good deal depends upon that.'With which preface, Mrs Nickleby took her nightcap from between theleaves of a very large prayer-book where it had been folded upsmall, and proceeded to tie it on: talking away in her usualdiscursive manner, all the time.'People may say what they like,' observed Mrs Nickleby, 'but there'sa great deal of comfort in a nightcap, as I'm sure you wouldconfess, Nicholas my dear, if you would only have strings to yours,and wear it like a Christian, instead of sticking it upon the verytop of your head like a blue-coat boy. You needn't think it anunmanly or quizzical thing to be particular about your nightcap, forI have often heard your poor dear papa, and the Reverend Mr What's-his-name, who used to read prayers in that old church with thecurious little steeple that the weathercock was blown off the nightweek before you were born,--I have often heard them say, that theyoung men at college are uncommonly particular about theirnightcaps, and that the Oxford nightcaps are quite celebrated fortheir strength and goodness; so much so, indeed, that the young mennever dream of going to bed without 'em, and I believe it's admittedon all hands that they know what's good, and don't coddlethemselves.'Nicholas laughed, and entering no further into the subject of thislengthened harangue, reverted to the pleasant tone of the littlebirthday party. And as Mrs Nickleby instantly became very curiousrespecting it, and made a great number of inquiries touching whatthey had had for dinner, and how it was put on table, and whether itwas overdone or underdone, and who was there, and what 'the MrCherrybles' said, and what Nicholas said, and what the Mr Cherryblessaid when he said that; Nicholas described the festivities at fulllength, and also the occurrences of the morning.'Late as it is,' said Nicholas, 'I am almost selfish enough to wishthat Kate had been up to hear all this. I was all impatience, as Icame along, to tell her.''Why, Kate,' said Mrs Nickleby, putting her feet upon the fender,and drawing her chair close to it, as if settling herself for a longtalk. 'Kate has been in bed--oh! a couple of hours--and I'm veryglad, Nicholas my dear, that I prevailed upon her not to sit up, forI wished very much to have an opportunity of saying a few words toyou. I am naturally anxious about it, and of course it's a verydelightful and consoling thing to have a grown-up son that one canput confidence in, and advise with; indeed I don't know any usethere would be in having sons at all, unless people could putconfidence in them.'Nicholas stopped in the middle of a sleepy yawn, as his mother beganto speak: and looked at her with fixed attention.'There was a lady in our neighbourhood,' said Mrs Nickleby,'speaking of sons puts me in mind of it--a lady in our neighbourhoodwhen we lived near Dawlish, I think her name was Rogers; indeed I amsure it was if it wasn't Murphy, which is the only doubt I have--''Is it about her, mother, that you wished to speak to me?' saidNicholas quietly.'About her!' cried Mrs Nickleby. 'Good gracious, Nicholas, my dear,how can you be so ridiculous! But that was always the way with yourpoor dear papa,--just his way--always wandering, never able to fixhis thoughts on any one subject for two minutes together. I think Isee him now!' said Mrs Nickleby, wiping her eyes, 'looking at mewhile I was talking to him about his affairs, just as if his ideaswere in a state of perfect conglomeration! Anybody who had come inupon us suddenly, would have supposed I was confusing anddistracting him instead of making things plainer; upon my word theywould.''I am very sorry, mother, that I should inherit this unfortunateslowness of apprehension,' said Nicholas, kindly; 'but I'll do mybest to understand you, if you'll only go straight on: indeed Iwill.''Your poor pa!' said Mrs Nickleby, pondering. 'He never knew, tillit was too late, what I would have had him do!'This was undoubtedly the case, inasmuch as the deceased Mr Nicklebyhad not arrived at the knowledge. Then he died. Neither had MrsNickleby herself; which is, in some sort, an explanation of thecircumstance.'However,' said Mrs Nickleby, drying her tears, 'this has nothing todo--certainly nothing whatever to do--with the gentleman in the nexthouse.''I should suppose that the gentleman in the next house has as littleto do with us,' returned Nicholas.'There can be no doubt,' said Mrs Nickleby, 'that he is a gentleman,and has the manners of a gentleman, and the appearance of agentleman, although he does wear smalls and grey worsted stockings.That may be eccentricity, or he may be proud of his legs. I don'tsee why he shouldn't be. The Prince Regent was proud of his legs,and so was Daniel Lambert, who was also a fat man; he was proud ofhis legs. So was Miss Biffin: she was--no,' added Mrs Nickleby,correcting, herself, 'I think she had only toes, but the principleis the same.'Nicholas looked on, quite amazed at the introduction of this newtheme. Which seemed just what Mrs Nickleby had expected him to be.'You may well be surprised, Nicholas, my dear,' she said, 'I am sureI was. It came upon me like a flash of fire, and almost froze myblood. The bottom of his garden joins the bottom of ours, and ofcourse I had several times seen him sitting among the scarlet-beansin his little arbour, or working at his little hot-beds. I used tothink he stared rather, but I didn't take any particular notice ofthat, as we were newcomers, and he might be curious to see what wewere like. But when he began to throw his cucumbers over our wall--''To throw his cucumbers over our wall!' repeated Nicholas, in greatastonishment.'Yes, Nicholas, my dear,' replied Mrs Nickleby in a very serioustone; 'his cucumbers over our wall. And vegetable marrowslikewise.''Confound his impudence!' said Nicholas, firing immediately. 'Whatdoes he mean by that?''I don't think he means it impertinently at all,' replied MrsNickleby.'What!' said Nicholas, 'cucumbers and vegetable marrows flying atthe heads of the family as they walk in their own garden, and notmeant impertinently! Why, mother--'Nicholas stopped short; for there was an indescribable expression ofplacid triumph, mingled with a modest confusion, lingering betweenthe borders of Mrs Nickleby's nightcap, which arrested his attentionsuddenly.'He must be a very weak, and foolish, and inconsiderate man,' saidMrs Nickleby; 'blamable indeed--at least I suppose other peoplewould consider him so; of course I can't be expected to express anyopinion on that point, especially after always defending your poordear papa when other people blamed him for making proposals to me;and to be sure there can be no doubt that he has taken a verysingular way of showing it. Still at the same time, his attentionsare--that is, as far as it goes, and to a certain extent of course--a flattering sort of thing; and although I should never dream ofmarrying again with a dear girl like Kate still unsettled in life--''Surely, mother, such an idea never entered your brain for aninstant?' said Nicholas.'Bless my heart, Nicholas my dear,' returned his mother in a peevishtone, 'isn't that precisely what I am saying, if you would only letme speak? Of course, I never gave it a second thought, and I amsurprised and astonished that you should suppose me capable of sucha thing. All I say is, what step is the best to take, so as toreject these advances civilly and delicately, and without hurtinghis feelings too much, and driving him to despair, or anything ofthat kind? My goodness me!' exclaimed Mrs Nickleby, with a half-simper, 'suppose he was to go doing anything rash to himself. CouldI ever be happy again, Nicholas?'Despite his vexation and concern, Nicholas could scarcely helpsmiling, as he rejoined, 'Now, do you think, mother, that such aresult would be likely to ensue from the most cruel repulse?''Upon my word, my dear, I don't know," returned Mrs Nickleby;'really, I don't know. I am sure there was a case in the day beforeyesterday's paper, extracted from one of the French newspapers,about a journeyman shoemaker who was jealous of a young girl in anadjoining village, because she wouldn't shut herself up in an air-tight three-pair-of-stairs, and charcoal herself to death with him;and who went and hid himself in a wood with a sharp-pointed knife,and rushed out, as she was passing by with a few friends, and killedhimself first, and then all the friends, and then her--no, killedall the friends first, and then herself, and then himself--which itis quite frightful to think of. Somehow or other,' added MrsNickleby, after a momentary pause, 'they always are journeymanshoemakers who do these things in France, according to the papers.I don't know how it is--something in the leather, I suppose.''But this man, who is not a shoemaker--what has he done, mother,what has he said?' inquired Nicholas, fretted almost beyondendurance, but looking nearly as resigned and patient as MrsNickleby herself. 'You know, there is no language of vegetables,which converts a cucumber into a formal declaration of attachment.''My dear,' replied Mrs Nickleby, tossing her head and looking at theashes in the grate, 'he has done and said all sorts of things.''Is there no mistake on your part?' asked Nicholas.'Mistake!' cried Mrs Nickleby. 'Lord, Nicholas my dear, do yousuppose I don't know when a man's in earnest?''Well, well!' muttered Nicholas.'Every time I go to the window,' said Mrs Nickleby, 'he kisses onehand, and lays the other upon his heart--of course it's very foolishof him to do so, and I dare say you'll say it's very wrong, but hedoes it very respectfully--very respectfully indeed--and verytenderly, extremely tenderly. So far, he deserves the greatestcredit; there can be no doubt about that. Then, there are thepresents which come pouring over the wall every day, and very finethey certainly are, very fine; we had one of the cucumbers at dinneryesterday, and think of pickling the rest for next winter. And lastevening,' added Mrs Nickleby, with increased confusion, 'he calledgently over the wall, as I was walking in the garden, and proposedmarriage, and an elopement. His voice is as clear as a bell or amusical glass--very like a musical glass indeed--but of course Ididn't listen to it. Then, the question is, Nicholas my dear, whatam I to do?''Does Kate know of this?' asked Nicholas.'I have not said a word about it yet,' answered his mother.'Then, for Heaven's sake,' rejoined Nicholas, rising, 'do not, forit would make her very unhappy. And with regard to what you shoulddo, my dear mother, do what your good sense and feeling, and respectfor my father's memory, would prompt. There are a thousand ways inwhich you can show your dislike of these preposterous and dotingattentions. If you act as decidedly as you ought and they are stillcontinued, and to your annoyance, I can speedily put a stop to them.But I should not interfere in a matter so ridiculous, and attachimportance to it, until you have vindicated yourself. Most womencan do that, but especially one of your age and condition, incircumstances like these, which are unworthy of a serious thought.I would not shame you by seeming to take them to heart, or treatthem earnestly for an instant. Absurd old idiot!'So saying, Nicholas kissed his mother, and bade her good-night, andthey retired to their respective chambers.To do Mrs Nickleby justice, her attachment to her children wouldhave prevented her seriously contemplating a second marriage, evenif she could have so far conquered her recollections of her latehusband as to have any strong inclinations that way. But, althoughthere was no evil and little real selfishness in Mrs Nickleby'sheart, she had a weak head and a vain one; and there was somethingso flattering in being sought (and vainly sought) in marriage atthis time of day, that she could not dismiss the passion of theunknown gentleman quite so summarily or lightly as Nicholas appearedto deem becoming.'As to its being preposterous, and doting, and ridiculous,' thoughtMrs Nickleby, communing with herself in her own room, 'I don't seethat, at all. It's hopeless on his part, certainly; but why heshould be an absurd old idiot, I confess I don't see. He is not tobe supposed to know it's hopeless. Poor fellow! He is to bepitied, I think!'Having made these reflections, Mrs Nickleby looked in her littledressing-glass, and walking backward a few steps from it, tried toremember who it was who used to say that when Nicholas was one-and-twenty he would have more the appearance of her brother than herson. Not being able to call the authority to mind, she extinguishedher candle, and drew up the window-blind to admit the light ofmorning, which had, by this time, begun to dawn.'It's a bad light to distinguish objects in,' murmured Mrs Nickleby,peering into the garden, 'and my eyes are not very good--I wasshort-sighted from a child--but, upon my word, I think there'sanother large vegetable marrow sticking, at this moment, on thebroken glass bottles at the top of the wall!'