On the second morning after the departure of Nicholas for Yorkshire,Kate Nickleby sat in a very faded chair raised upon a very dusty thronein Miss La Creevy's room, giving that lady a sitting for the portraitupon which she was engaged; and towards the full perfection of which,Miss La Creevy had had the street-door case brought upstairs, inorder that she might be the better able to infuse into the counterfeitcountenance of Miss Nickleby, a bright salmon flesh-tint which she hadoriginally hit upon while executing the miniature of a young officertherein contained, and which bright salmon flesh-tint was considered,by Miss La Creevy's chief friends and patrons, to be quite a novelty inart: as indeed it was.

'I think I have caught it now,' said Miss La Creevy. 'The very shade!This will be the sweetest portrait I have ever done, certainly.'

'It will be your genius that makes it so, then, I am sure,' repliedKate, smiling.

'No, no, I won't allow that, my dear,' rejoined Miss La Creevy. 'It'sa very nice subject--a very nice subject, indeed--though, of course,something depends upon the mode of treatment.'

'And not a little,' observed Kate.

'Why, my dear, you are right there,' said Miss La Creevy, 'in the mainyou are right there; though I don't allow that it is of such very greatimportance in the present case. Ah! The difficulties of Art, my dear,are great.'

'They must be, I have no doubt,' said Kate, humouring her good-naturedlittle friend.

'They are beyond anything you can form the faintest conception of,'replied Miss La Creevy. 'What with bringing out eyes with all one'spower, and keeping down noses with all one's force, and adding to heads,and taking away teeth altogether, you have no idea of the trouble onelittle miniature is.'

'The remuneration can scarcely repay you,' said Kate.

'Why, it does not, and that's the truth,' answered Miss La Creevy; 'andthen people are so dissatisfied and unreasonable, that, nine times outof ten, there's no pleasure in painting them. Sometimes they say, "Oh,how very serious you have made me look, Miss La Creevy!" and at others,"La, Miss La Creevy, how very smirking!" when the very essence of agood portrait is, that it must be either serious or smirking, or it's noportrait at all.'

'Indeed!' said Kate, laughing.

'Certainly, my dear; because the sitters are always either the one orthe other,' replied Miss La Creevy. 'Look at the Royal Academy! Allthose beautiful shiny portraits of gentlemen in black velvet waistcoats,with their fists doubled up on round tables, or marble slabs, areserious, you know; and all the ladies who are playing with littleparasols, or little dogs, or little children--it's the same rule in art,only varying the objects--are smirking. In fact,' said Miss La Creevy,sinking her voice to a confidential whisper, 'there are only two stylesof portrait painting; the serious and the smirk; and we always use theserious for professional people (except actors sometimes), and the smirkfor private ladies and gentlemen who don't care so much about lookingclever.'

Kate seemed highly amused by this information, and Miss La Creevy wenton painting and talking, with immovable complacency.

'What a number of officers you seem to paint!' said Kate, availingherself of a pause in the discourse, and glancing round the room.

'Number of what, child?' inquired Miss La Creevy, looking up from herwork. 'Character portraits, oh yes--they're not real military men, youknow.'

'No!'

'Bless your heart, of course not; only clerks and that, who hire auniform coat to be painted in, and send it here in a carpet bag.Some artists,' said Miss La Creevy, 'keep a red coat, and chargeseven-and-sixpence extra for hire and carmine; but I don't do thatmyself, for I don't consider it legitimate.'

Drawing herself up, as though she plumed herself greatly upon notresorting to these lures to catch sitters, Miss La Creevy appliedherself, more intently, to her task: only raising her head occasionally,to look with unspeakable satisfaction at some touch she had just putin: and now and then giving Miss Nickleby to understand what particularfeature she was at work upon, at the moment; 'not,' she expresslyobserved, 'that you should make it up for painting, my dear, but becauseit's our custom sometimes to tell sitters what part we are upon, inorder that if there's any particular expression they want introduced,they may throw it in, at the time, you know.'

'And when,' said Miss La Creevy, after a long silence, to wit, aninterval of full a minute and a half, 'when do you expect to see youruncle again?'

'I scarcely know; I had expected to have seen him before now,' repliedKate. 'Soon I hope, for this state of uncertainty is worse thananything.'

'I suppose he has money, hasn't he?' inquired Miss La Creevy.

'He is very rich, I have heard,' rejoined Kate. 'I don't know that heis, but I believe so.'

'Ah, you may depend upon it he is, or he wouldn't be so surly,'remarked Miss La Creevy, who was an odd little mixture of shrewdness andsimplicity. 'When a man's a bear, he is generally pretty independent.'

'His manner is rough,' said Kate.

'Rough!' cried Miss La Creevy, 'a porcupine's a featherbed to him! Inever met with such a cross-grained old savage.'

'It is only his manner, I believe,' observed Kate, timidly; 'he wasdisappointed in early life, I think I have heard, or has had his tempersoured by some calamity. I should be sorry to think ill of him until Iknew he deserved it.'

'Well; that's very right and proper,' observed the miniature painter,'and Heaven forbid that I should be the cause of your doing so! But,now, mightn't he, without feeling it himself, make you and your mamasome nice little allowance that would keep you both comfortable untilyou were well married, and be a little fortune to her afterwards? Whatwould a hundred a year for instance, be to him?'

'I don't know what it would be to him,' said Kate, with energy, 'but itwould be that to me I would rather die than take.'

'Heyday!' cried Miss La Creevy.

'A dependence upon him,' said Kate, 'would embitter my whole life. Ishould feel begging a far less degradation.'

'Well!' exclaimed Miss La Creevy. 'This of a relation whom you will nothear an indifferent person speak ill of, my dear, sounds oddly enough, Iconfess.'

'I dare say it does,' replied Kate, speaking more gently, 'indeed I amsure it must. I--I--only mean that with the feelings and recollection ofbetter times upon me, I could not bear to live on anybody's bounty--nothis particularly, but anybody's.'

Miss La Creevy looked slyly at her companion, as if she doubted whetherRalph himself were not the subject of dislike, but seeing that her youngfriend was distressed, made no remark.

'I only ask of him,' continued Kate, whose tears fell while she spoke,'that he will move so little out of his way, in my behalf, as toenable me by his recommendation--only by his recommendation--to earn,literally, my bread and remain with my mother. Whether we shall evertaste happiness again, depends upon the fortunes of my dear brother;but if he will do this, and Nicholas only tells us that he is well andcheerful, I shall be contented.'

As she ceased to speak, there was a rustling behind the screenwhich stood between her and the door, and some person knocked at thewainscot.'

'Come in, whoever it is!' cried Miss La Creevy.

The person complied, and, coming forward at once, gave to view the formand features of no less an individual than Mr Ralph Nickleby himself.

'Your servant, ladies,' said Ralph, looking sharply at them by turns.'You were talking so loud, that I was unable to make you hear.'

When the man of business had a more than commonly vicious snarl lurkingat his heart, he had a trick of almost concealing his eyes under theirthick and protruding brows, for an instant, and then displaying them intheir full keenness. As he did so now, and tried to keep down the smilewhich parted his thin compressed lips, and puckered up the bad linesabout his mouth, they both felt certain that some part, if not thewhole, of their recent conversation, had been overheard.

'I called in, on my way upstairs, more than half expecting to find youhere,' said Ralph, addressing his niece, and looking contemptuously atthe portrait. 'Is that my niece's portrait, ma'am?'

'Yes it is, Mr Nickleby,' said Miss La Creevy, with a very sprightlyair, 'and between you and me and the post, sir, it will be a very niceportrait too, though I say it who am the painter.'

'Don't trouble yourself to show it to me, ma'am,' cried Ralph, movingaway, 'I have no eye for likenesses. Is it nearly finished?'

'Why, yes,' replied Miss La Creevy, considering with the pencil end ofher brush in her mouth. 'Two sittings more will--'

'Have them at once, ma'am,' said Ralph. 'She'll have no time to idleover fooleries after tomorrow. Work, ma'am, work; we must all work. Haveyou let your lodgings, ma'am?'

'I have not put a bill up yet, sir.'

'Put it up at once, ma'am; they won't want the rooms after this week,or if they do, can't pay for them. Now, my dear, if you're ready, we'lllose no more time.'

With an assumption of kindness which sat worse upon him even than hisusual manner, Mr Ralph Nickleby motioned to the young lady to precedehim, and bowing gravely to Miss La Creevy, closed the door and followedupstairs, where Mrs Nickleby received him with many expressions ofregard. Stopping them somewhat abruptly, Ralph waved his hand with animpatient gesture, and proceeded to the object of his visit.

'I have found a situation for your daughter, ma'am,' said Ralph.

'Well,' replied Mrs Nickleby. 'Now, I will say that that is only justwhat I have expected of you. "Depend upon it," I said to Kate, onlyyesterday morning at breakfast, "that after your uncle has provided, inthat most ready manner, for Nicholas, he will not leave us until he hasdone at least the same for you." These were my very words, as near as Iremember. Kate, my dear, why don't you thank your--'

'Let me proceed, ma'am, pray,' said Ralph, interrupting hissister-in-law in the full torrent of her discourse.

'Kate, my love, let your uncle proceed,' said Mrs Nickleby.

'I am most anxious that he should, mama,' rejoined Kate.

'Well, my dear, if you are anxious that he should, you had better allowyour uncle to say what he has to say, without interruption,' observedMrs Nickleby, with many small nods and frowns. 'Your uncle's time isvery valuable, my dear; and however desirous you may be--and naturallydesirous, as I am sure any affectionate relations who have seen solittle of your uncle as we have, must naturally be to protract thepleasure of having him among us, still, we are bound not to be selfish,but to take into consideration the important nature of his occupationsin the city.'

'I am very much obliged to you, ma'am,' said Ralph with a scarcelyperceptible sneer. 'An absence of business habits in this family leads,apparently, to a great waste of words before business--when it does comeunder consideration--is arrived at, at all.'

'I fear it is so indeed,' replied Mrs Nickleby with a sigh. 'Your poorbrother--'

'My poor brother, ma'am,' interposed Ralph tartly, 'had no idea whatbusiness was--was unacquainted, I verily believe, with the very meaningof the word.'

'I fear he was,' said Mrs Nickleby, with her handkerchief to her eyes.'If it hadn't been for me, I don't know what would have become of him.'

What strange creatures we are! The slight bait so skilfully thrown outby Ralph, on their first interview, was dangling on the hook yet. Atevery small deprivation or discomfort which presented itself in thecourse of the four-and-twenty hours to remind her of her straitenedand altered circumstances, peevish visions of her dower of one thousandpounds had arisen before Mrs Nickleby's mind, until, at last, she hadcome to persuade herself that of all her late husband's creditors shewas the worst used and the most to be pitied. And yet, she had loved himdearly for many years, and had no greater share of selfishness than isthe usual lot of mortals. Such is the irritability of sudden poverty. Adecent annuity would have restored her thoughts to their old train, atonce.

'Repining is of no use, ma'am,' said Ralph. 'Of all fruitless errands,sending a tear to look after a day that is gone is the most fruitless.'

'So it is,' sobbed Mrs Nickleby. 'So it is.'

'As you feel so keenly, in your own purse and person, the consequencesof inattention to business, ma'am,' said Ralph, 'I am sure you willimpress upon your children the necessity of attaching themselves to itearly in life.'

'Of course I must see that,' rejoined Mrs Nickleby. 'Sad experience, youknow, brother-in-law.--Kate, my dear, put that down in the next letterto Nicholas, or remind me to do it if I write.'

Ralph paused for a few moments, and seeing that he had now made prettysure of the mother, in case the daughter objected to his proposition,went on to say:

'The situation that I have made interest to procure, ma'am, iswith--with a milliner and dressmaker, in short.'

'A milliner!' cried Mrs Nickleby.

'A milliner and dressmaker, ma'am,' replied Ralph. 'Dressmakers inLondon, as I need not remind you, ma'am, who are so well acquainted withall matters in the ordinary routine of life, make large fortunes, keepequipages, and become persons of great wealth and fortune.'

Now, the first idea called up in Mrs Nickleby's mind by the wordsmilliner and dressmaker were connected with certain wicker baskets linedwith black oilskin, which she remembered to have seen carried to andfro in the streets; but, as Ralph proceeded, these disappeared, andwere replaced by visions of large houses at the West end, neat privatecarriages, and a banker's book; all of which images succeeded each otherwith such rapidity, that he had no sooner finished speaking, thanshe nodded her head and said 'Very true,' with great appearance ofsatisfaction.

'What your uncle says is very true, Kate, my dear,' said Mrs Nickleby.'I recollect when your poor papa and I came to town after we weremarried, that a young lady brought me home a chip cottage-bonnet, withwhite and green trimming, and green persian lining, in her own carriage,which drove up to the door full gallop;--at least, I am not quitecertain whether it was her own carriage or a hackney chariot, but Iremember very well that the horse dropped down dead as he was turninground, and that your poor papa said he hadn't had any corn for afortnight.'

This anecdote, so strikingly illustrative of the opulence of milliners,was not received with any great demonstration of feeling, inasmuch asKate hung down her head while it was relating, and Ralph manifested veryintelligible symptoms of extreme impatience.

'The lady's name,' said Ralph, hastily striking in, 'isMantalini--Madame Mantalini. I know her. She lives near CavendishSquare. If your daughter is disposed to try after the situation, I'lltake her there directly.'

'Have you nothing to say to your uncle, my love?' inquired Mrs Nickleby.

'A great deal,' replied Kate; 'but not now. I would rather speak to himwhen we are alone;--it will save his time if I thank him and say what Iwish to say to him, as we walk along.'

With these words, Kate hurried away, to hide the traces of emotion thatwere stealing down her face, and to prepare herself for the walk, whileMrs Nickleby amused her brother-in-law by giving him, with many tears, adetailed account of the dimensions of a rosewood cabinet piano they hadpossessed in their days of affluence, together with a minute descriptionof eight drawing-room chairs, with turned legs and green chintz squabsto match the curtains, which had cost two pounds fifteen shillingsapiece, and had gone at the sale for a mere nothing.

These reminiscences were at length cut short by Kate's return in herwalking dress, when Ralph, who had been fretting and fuming during thewhole time of her absence, lost no time, and used very little ceremony,in descending into the street.

'Now,' he said, taking her arm, 'walk as fast as you can, and you'll getinto the step that you'll have to walk to business with, every morning.'So saying, he led Kate off, at a good round pace, towards CavendishSquare.

'I am very much obliged to you, uncle,' said the young lady, after theyhad hurried on in silence for some time; 'very.'

'I'm glad to hear it,' said Ralph. 'I hope you'll do your duty.'

'I will try to please, uncle,' replied Kate: 'indeed I--'

'Don't begin to cry,' growled Ralph; 'I hate crying.'

'It's very foolish, I know, uncle,' began poor Kate.

'It is,' replied Ralph, stopping her short, 'and very affected besides.Let me see no more of it.'

Perhaps this was not the best way to dry the tears of a young andsensitive female, about to make her first entry on an entirely new sceneof life, among cold and uninterested strangers; but it had its effectnotwithstanding. Kate coloured deeply, breathed quickly for a fewmoments, and then walked on with a firmer and more determined step.

It was a curious contrast to see how the timid country girl shrunkthrough the crowd that hurried up and down the streets, giving way tothe press of people, and clinging closely to Ralph as though she fearedto lose him in the throng; and how the stern and hard-featured man ofbusiness went doggedly on, elbowing the passengers aside, and now andthen exchanging a gruff salutation with some passing acquaintance, whoturned to look back upon his pretty charge, with looks expressive ofsurprise, and seemed to wonder at the ill-assorted companionship. But,it would have been a stranger contrast still, to have read the heartsthat were beating side by side; to have laid bare the gentle innocenceof the one, and the rugged villainy of the other; to have hung upon theguileless thoughts of the affectionate girl, and been amazed that, amongall the wily plots and calculations of the old man, there should not beone word or figure denoting thought of death or of the grave. But so itwas; and stranger still--though this is a thing of every day--the warmyoung heart palpitated with a thousand anxieties and apprehensions,while that of the old worldly man lay rusting in its cell, beating onlyas a piece of cunning mechanism, and yielding no one throb of hope, orfear, or love, or care, for any living thing.

'Uncle,' said Kate, when she judged they must be near their destination,'I must ask one question of you. I am to live at home?'

'At home!' replied Ralph; 'where's that?'

'I mean with my mother--THE WIDOW,' said Kate emphatically.

'You will live, to all intents and purposes, here,' rejoined Ralph; 'forhere you will take your meals, and here you will be from morning tillnight--occasionally perhaps till morning again.'

'But at night, I mean,' said Kate; 'I cannot leave her, uncle. I musthave some place that I can call a home; it will be wherever she is, youknow, and may be a very humble one.'

'May be!' said Ralph, walking faster, in the impatience provoked by theremark; 'must be, you mean. May be a humble one! Is the girl mad?'

'The word slipped from my lips, I did not mean it indeed,' urged Kate.

'I hope not,' said Ralph.

'But my question, uncle; you have not answered it.'

'Why, I anticipated something of the kind,' said Ralph; 'and--though Iobject very strongly, mind--have provided against it. I spoke of you asan out-of-door worker; so you will go to this home that may be humble,every night.'

There was comfort in this. Kate poured forth many thanks for her uncle'sconsideration, which Ralph received as if he had deserved them all, andthey arrived without any further conversation at the dressmaker's door,which displayed a very large plate, with Madame Mantalini's name andoccupation, and was approached by a handsome flight of steps. There wasa shop to the house, but it was let off to an importer of otto of roses.Madame Mantalini's shows-rooms were on the first-floor: a fact which wasnotified to the nobility and gentry by the casual exhibition, near thehandsomely curtained windows, of two or three elegant bonnets of thenewest fashion, and some costly garments in the most approved taste.

A liveried footman opened the door, and in reply to Ralph's inquirywhether Madame Mantalini was at home, ushered them, through a handsomehall and up a spacious staircase, into the show saloon, which comprisedtwo spacious drawing-rooms, and exhibited an immense variety of superbdresses and materials for dresses: some arranged on stands, otherslaid carelessly on sofas, and others again, scattered over the carpet,hanging on the cheval-glasses, or mingling, in some other way, with therich furniture of various descriptions, which was profusely displayed.

They waited here a much longer time than was agreeable to Mr RalphNickleby, who eyed the gaudy frippery about him with very littleconcern, and was at length about to pull the bell, when a gentlemansuddenly popped his head into the room, and, seeing somebody there, assuddenly popped it out again.

'Here. Hollo!' cried Ralph. 'Who's that?'

At the sound of Ralph's voice, the head reappeared, and the mouth,displaying a very long row of very white teeth, uttered in a mincingtone the words, 'Demmit. What, Nickleby! oh, demmit!' Having utteredwhich ejaculations, the gentleman advanced, and shook hands with Ralph,with great warmth. He was dressed in a gorgeous morning gown, witha waistcoat and Turkish trousers of the same pattern, a pink silkneckerchief, and bright green slippers, and had a very copiouswatch-chain wound round his body. Moreover, he had whiskers and amoustache, both dyed black and gracefully curled.

'Demmit, you don't mean to say you want me, do you, demmit?' said thisgentleman, smiting Ralph on the shoulder.

'Not yet,' said Ralph, sarcastically.

'Ha! ha! demmit,' cried the gentleman; when, wheeling round to laughwith greater elegance, he encountered Kate Nickleby, who was standingnear.

'My niece,' said Ralph.

'I remember,' said the gentleman, striking his nose with the knuckleof his forefinger as a chastening for his forgetfulness. 'Demmit, Iremember what you come for. Step this way, Nickleby; my dear, will youfollow me? Ha! ha! They all follow me, Nickleby; always did, demmit,always.'

Giving loose to the playfulness of his imagination, after this fashion,the gentleman led the way to a private sitting-room on the second floor,scarcely less elegantly furnished than the apartment below, where thepresence of a silver coffee-pot, an egg-shell, and sloppy china for one,seemed to show that he had just breakfasted.

'Sit down, my dear,' said the gentleman: first staring Miss Nickleby outof countenance, and then grinning in delight at the achievement.'This cursed high room takes one's breath away. These infernal skyparlours--I'm afraid I must move, Nickleby.'

'I would, by all means,' replied Ralph, looking bitterly round.

'What a demd rum fellow you are, Nickleby,' said the gentleman, 'thedemdest, longest-headed, queerest-tempered old coiner of gold and silverever was--demmit.'

Having complimented Ralph to this effect, the gentleman rang the bell,and stared at Miss Nickleby until it was answered, when he left off tobid the man desire his mistress to come directly; after which, he beganagain, and left off no more until Madame Mantalini appeared.

The dressmaker was a buxom person, handsomely dressed and rathergood-looking, but much older than the gentleman in the Turkish trousers,whom she had wedded some six months before. His name was originallyMuntle; but it had been converted, by an easy transition, intoMantalini: the lady rightly considering that an English appellationwould be of serious injury to the business. He had married on hiswhiskers; upon which property he had previously subsisted, in a genteelmanner, for some years; and which he had recently improved, afterpatient cultivation by the addition of a moustache, which promisedto secure him an easy independence: his share in the labours ofthe business being at present confined to spending the money, andoccasionally, when that ran short, driving to Mr Ralph Nickleby toprocure discount--at a percentage--for the customers' bills.

'My life,' said Mr Mantalini, 'what a demd devil of a time you havebeen!'

'I didn't even know Mr Nickleby was here, my love,' said MadameMantalini.

'Then what a doubly demd infernal rascal that footman must be, my soul,'remonstrated Mr Mantalini.

'My dear,' said Madame, 'that is entirely your fault.'

'My fault, my heart's joy?'

'Certainly,' returned the lady; 'what can you expect, dearest, if youwill not correct the man?'

'Correct the man, my soul's delight!'

'Yes; I am sure he wants speaking to, badly enough,' said Madame,pouting.

'Then do not vex itself,' said Mr Mantalini; 'he shall be horse-whippedtill he cries out demnebly.' With this promise Mr Mantalini kissedMadame Mantalini, and, after that performance, Madame Mantalini pulledMr Mantalini playfully by the ear: which done, they descended tobusiness.

'Now, ma'am,' said Ralph, who had looked on, at all this, with suchscorn as few men can express in looks, 'this is my niece.'

'Just so, Mr Nickleby,' replied Madame Mantalini, surveying Kate fromhead to foot, and back again. 'Can you speak French, child?'

'Yes, ma'am,' replied Kate, not daring to look up; for she felt that theeyes of the odious man in the dressing-gown were directed towards her.

'Like a demd native?' asked the husband.

Miss Nickleby offered no reply to this inquiry, but turned her back uponthe questioner, as if addressing herself to make answer to what his wifemight demand.

'We keep twenty young women constantly employed in the establishment,'said Madame.

'Indeed, ma'am!' replied Kate, timidly.

'Yes; and some of 'em demd handsome, too,' said the master.

'Mantalini!' exclaimed his wife, in an awful voice.

'My senses' idol!' said Mantalini.

'Do you wish to break my heart?'

'Not for twenty thousand hemispheres populated with--with--with littleballet-dancers,' replied Mantalini in a poetical strain.

'Then you will, if you persevere in that mode of speaking,' said hiswife. 'What can Mr Nickleby think when he hears you?'

'Oh! Nothing, ma'am, nothing,' replied Ralph. 'I know his amiablenature, and yours,--mere little remarks that give a zest to your dailyintercourse--lovers' quarrels that add sweetness to those domestic joyswhich promise to last so long--that's all; that's all.'

If an iron door could be supposed to quarrel with its hinges, and tomake a firm resolution to open with slow obstinacy, and grind them topowder in the process, it would emit a pleasanter sound in so doing,than did these words in the rough and bitter voice in which they wereuttered by Ralph. Even Mr Mantalini felt their influence, and turningaffrighted round, exclaimed: 'What a demd horrid croaking!'

'You will pay no attention, if you please, to what Mr Mantalini says,'observed his wife, addressing Miss Nickleby.

'I do not, ma'am,' said Kate, with quiet contempt.

'Mr Mantalini knows nothing whatever about any of the young women,'continued Madame, looking at her husband, and speaking to Kate. 'If hehas seen any of them, he must have seen them in the street, going to, orreturning from, their work, and not here. He was never even in the room.I do not allow it. What hours of work have you been accustomed to?'

'I have never yet been accustomed to work at all, ma'am,' replied Kate,in a low voice.

'For which reason she'll work all the better now,' said Ralph, puttingin a word, lest this confession should injure the negotiation.

'I hope so,' returned Madame Mantalini; 'our hours are from nine tonine, with extra work when we're very full of business, for which Iallow payment as overtime.'

Kate bowed her head, to intimate that she heard, and was satisfied.

'Your meals,' continued Madame Mantalini, 'that is, dinner and tea, youwill take here. I should think your wages would average from five toseven shillings a week; but I can't give you any certain information onthat point, until I see what you can do.'

Kate bowed her head again.

'If you're ready to come,' said Madame Mantalini, 'you had better beginon Monday morning at nine exactly, and Miss Knag the forewoman shallthen have directions to try you with some easy work at first. Is thereanything more, Mr Nickleby?'

'Nothing more, ma'am,' replied Ralph, rising.

'Then I believe that's all,' said the lady. Having arrived at thisnatural conclusion, she looked at the door, as if she wished to begone, but hesitated notwithstanding, as though unwilling to leave to MrMantalini the sole honour of showing them downstairs. Ralph relievedher from her perplexity by taking his departure without delay: MadameMantalini making many gracious inquiries why he never came to see them;and Mr Mantalini anathematising the stairs with great volubility as hefollowed them down, in the hope of inducing Kate to look round,--a hope,however, which was destined to remain ungratified.

'There!' said Ralph when they got into the street; 'now you're providedfor.'

Kate was about to thank him again, but he stopped her.

'I had some idea,' he said, 'of providing for your mother in a pleasantpart of the country--(he had a presentation to some almshouses on theborders of Cornwall, which had occurred to him more than once)--but asyou want to be together, I must do something else for her. She has alittle money?'

'A very little,' replied Kate.

'A little will go a long way if it's used sparingly,' said Ralph. 'Shemust see how long she can make it last, living rent free. You leave yourlodgings on Saturday?'

'You told us to do so, uncle.'

'Yes; there is a house empty that belongs to me, which I can put youinto till it is let, and then, if nothing else turns up, perhaps I shallhave another. You must live there.'

'Is it far from here, sir?' inquired Kate.

'Pretty well,' said Ralph; 'in another quarter of the town--at the Eastend; but I'll send my clerk down to you, at five o'clock on Saturday, totake you there. Goodbye. You know your way? Straight on.'

Coldly shaking his niece's hand, Ralph left her at the top of RegentStreet, and turned down a by-thoroughfare, intent on schemes ofmoney-getting. Kate walked sadly back to their lodgings in the Strand.