'What a demnition long time you have kept me ringing at this confoundedold cracked tea-kettle of a bell, every tinkle of which is enough tothrow a strong man into blue convulsions, upon my life and soul, ohdemmit,'--said Mr Mantalini to Newman Noggs, scraping his boots, as hespoke, on Ralph Nickleby's scraper.

'I didn't hear the bell more than once,' replied Newman.

'Then you are most immensely and outr-i-geously deaf,' said MrMantalini, 'as deaf as a demnition post.'

Mr Mantalini had got by this time into the passage, and was making hisway to the door of Ralph's office with very little ceremony, when Newmaninterposed his body; and hinting that Mr Nickleby was unwilling to bedisturbed, inquired whether the client's business was of a pressingnature.

'It is most demnebly particular,' said Mr Mantalini. 'It is to melt somescraps of dirty paper into bright, shining, chinking, tinkling, demdmint sauce.'

Newman uttered a significant grunt, and taking Mr Mantalini's profferedcard, limped with it into his master's office. As he thrust his head inat the door, he saw that Ralph had resumed the thoughtful posture intowhich he had fallen after perusing his nephew's letter, and that heseemed to have been reading it again, as he once more held it open inhis hand. The glance was but momentary, for Ralph, being disturbed,turned to demand the cause of the interruption.

As Newman stated it, the cause himself swaggered into the room, andgrasping Ralph's horny hand with uncommon affection, vowed that he hadnever seen him looking so well in all his life.

'There is quite a bloom upon your demd countenance,' said Mr Mantalini,seating himself unbidden, and arranging his hair and whiskers. 'You lookquite juvenile and jolly, demmit!'

'We are alone,' returned Ralph, tartly. 'What do you want with me?'

'Good!' cried Mr Mantalini, displaying his teeth. 'What did I want! Yes.Ha, ha! Very good. WHAT did I want. Ha, ha. Oh dem!'

'What DO you want, man?' demanded Ralph, sternly.

'Demnition discount,' returned Mr Mantalini, with a grin, and shakinghis head waggishly.

'Money is scarce,' said Ralph.

'Demd scarce, or I shouldn't want it,' interrupted Mr Mantalini.

'The times are bad, and one scarcely knows whom to trust,' continuedRalph. 'I don't want to do business just now, in fact I would rathernot; but as you are a friend--how many bills have you there?'

'Two,' returned Mr Mantalini.

'What is the gross amount?'

'Demd trifling--five-and-seventy.'

'And the dates?'

'Two months, and four.'

'I'll do them for you--mind, for YOU; I wouldn't for many people--forfive-and-twenty pounds,' said Ralph, deliberately.

'Oh demmit!' cried Mr Mantalini, whose face lengthened considerably atthis handsome proposal.

'Why, that leaves you fifty,' retorted Ralph. 'What would you have? Letme see the names.'

'You are so demd hard, Nickleby,' remonstrated Mr Mantalini.

'Let me see the names,' replied Ralph, impatiently extending his handfor the bills. 'Well! They are not sure, but they are safe enough. Doyou consent to the terms, and will you take the money? I don't want youto do so. I would rather you didn't.'

'Demmit, Nickleby, can't you--' began Mr Mantalini.

'No,' replied Ralph, interrupting him. 'I can't. Will you take themoney--down, mind; no delay, no going into the city and pretending tonegotiate with some other party who has no existence, and never had. Isit a bargain, or is it not?'

Ralph pushed some papers from him as he spoke, and carelessly rattledhis cash-box, as though by mere accident. The sound was too much for MrMantalini. He closed the bargain directly it reached his ears, and Ralphtold the money out upon the table.

He had scarcely done so, and Mr Mantalini had not yet gathered it allup, when a ring was heard at the bell, and immediately afterwards Newmanushered in no less a person than Madame Mantalini, at sight of whom MrMantalini evinced considerable discomposure, and swept the cash into hispocket with remarkable alacrity.

'Oh, you ARE here,' said Madame Mantalini, tossing her head.

'Yes, my life and soul, I am,' replied her husband, dropping on hisknees, and pouncing with kitten-like playfulness upon a stray sovereign.'I am here, my soul's delight, upon Tom Tiddler's ground, picking up thedemnition gold and silver.'

'I am ashamed of you,' said Madame Mantalini, with much indignation.

'Ashamed--of ME, my joy? It knows it is talking demd charming sweetness,but naughty fibs,' returned Mr Mantalini. 'It knows it is not ashamed ofits own popolorum tibby.'

Whatever were the circumstances which had led to such a result,it certainly appeared as though the popolorum tibby had rathermiscalculated, for the nonce, the extent of his lady's affection. MadameMantalini only looked scornful in reply; and, turning to Ralph, beggedhim to excuse her intrusion.

'Which is entirely attributable,' said Madame, 'to the gross misconductand most improper behaviour of Mr Mantalini.'

'Of me, my essential juice of pineapple!'

'Of you,' returned his wife. 'But I will not allow it. I will not submitto be ruined by the extravagance and profligacy of any man. I call MrNickleby to witness the course I intend to pursue with you.'

'Pray don't call me to witness anything, ma'am,' said Ralph. 'Settle itbetween yourselves, settle it between yourselves.'

'No, but I must beg you as a favour,' said Madame Mantalini, 'to hearme give him notice of what it is my fixed intention to do--my fixedintention, sir,' repeated Madame Mantalini, darting an angry look at herhusband.

'Will she call me "Sir"?' cried Mantalini. 'Me who dote upon her withthe demdest ardour! She, who coils her fascinations round me like a pureangelic rattlesnake! It will be all up with my feelings; she will throwme into a demd state.'

'Don't talk of feelings, sir,' rejoined Madame Mantalini, seatingherself, and turning her back upon him. 'You don't consider mine.'

'I do not consider yours, my soul!' exclaimed Mr Mantalini.

'No,' replied his wife.

And notwithstanding various blandishments on the part of Mr Mantalini,Madame Mantalini still said no, and said it too with such determined andresolute ill-temper, that Mr Mantalini was clearly taken aback.

'His extravagance, Mr Nickleby,' said Madame Mantalini, addressingherself to Ralph, who leant against his easy-chair with his hands behindhim, and regarded the amiable couple with a smile of the supremest andmost unmitigated contempt,--'his extravagance is beyond all bounds.'

'I should scarcely have supposed it,' answered Ralph, sarcastically.

'I assure you, Mr Nickleby, however, that it is,' returned MadameMantalini. 'It makes me miserable! I am under constant apprehensions,and in constant difficulty. And even this,' said Madame Mantalini,wiping her eyes, 'is not the worst. He took some papers of value out ofmy desk this morning without asking my permission.'

Mr Mantalini groaned slightly, and buttoned his trousers pocket.

'I am obliged,' continued Madame Mantalini, 'since our late misfortunes,to pay Miss Knag a great deal of money for having her name in thebusiness, and I really cannot afford to encourage him in all hiswastefulness. As I have no doubt that he came straight here, MrNickleby, to convert the papers I have spoken of, into money, and as youhave assisted us very often before, and are very much connected with usin this kind of matters, I wish you to know the determination at whichhis conduct has compelled me to arrive.'

Mr Mantalini groaned once more from behind his wife's bonnet, andfitting a sovereign into one of his eyes, winked with the other atRalph. Having achieved this performance with great dexterity, he whippedthe coin into his pocket, and groaned again with increased penitence.

'I have made up my mind,' said Madame Mantalini, as tokens of impatiencemanifested themselves in Ralph's countenance, 'to allowance him.'

'To do that, my joy?' inquired Mr Mantalini, who did not seem to havecaught the words.

'To put him,' said Madame Mantalini, looking at Ralph, and prudentlyabstaining from the slightest glance at her husband, lest his manygraces should induce her to falter in her resolution, 'to put him upon afixed allowance; and I say that if he has a hundred and twenty poundsa year for his clothes and pocket-money, he may consider himself a veryfortunate man.'

Mr Mantalini waited, with much decorum, to hear the amount of theproposed stipend, but when it reached his ears, he cast his hat and caneupon the floor, and drawing out his pocket-handkerchief, gave vent tohis feelings in a dismal moan.

'Demnition!' cried Mr Mantalini, suddenly skipping out of his chair,and as suddenly skipping into it again, to the great discomposure of hislady's nerves. 'But no. It is a demd horrid dream. It is not reality.No!'

Comforting himself with this assurance, Mr Mantalini closed his eyes andwaited patiently till such time as he should wake up.

'A very judicious arrangement,' observed Ralph with a sneer, 'if yourhusband will keep within it, ma'am--as no doubt he will.'

'Demmit!' exclaimed Mr Mantalini, opening his eyes at the sound ofRalph's voice, 'it is a horrid reality. She is sitting there before me.There is the graceful outline of her form; it cannot be mistaken--thereis nothing like it. The two countesses had no outlines at all, and thedowager's was a demd outline. Why is she so excruciatingly beautifulthat I cannot be angry with her, even now?'

'You have brought it upon yourself, Alfred,' returned MadameMantalini--still reproachfully, but in a softened tone.

'I am a demd villain!' cried Mr Mantalini, smiting himself on the head.'I will fill my pockets with change for a sovereign in halfpence anddrown myself in the Thames; but I will not be angry with her, even then,for I will put a note in the twopenny-post as I go along, to tell herwhere the body is. She will be a lovely widow. I shall be a body. Somehandsome women will cry; she will laugh demnebly.'

'Alfred, you cruel, cruel creature,' said Madame Mantalini, sobbing atthe dreadful picture.

'She calls me cruel--me--me--who for her sake will become a demd, damp,moist, unpleasant body!' exclaimed Mr Mantalini.

'You know it almost breaks my heart, even to hear you talk of such athing,' replied Madame Mantalini.

'Can I live to be mistrusted?' cried her husband. 'Have I cut my heartinto a demd extraordinary number of little pieces, and given themall away, one after another, to the same little engrossing demnitioncaptivater, and can I live to be suspected by her? Demmit, no I can't.'

'Ask Mr Nickleby whether the sum I have mentioned is not a proper one,'reasoned Madame Mantalini.

'I don't want any sum,' replied her disconsolate husband; 'I shallrequire no demd allowance. I will be a body.'

On this repetition of Mr Mantalini's fatal threat, Madame Mantaliniwrung her hands, and implored the interference of Ralph Nickleby; andafter a great quantity of tears and talking, and several attempts onthe part of Mr Mantalini to reach the door, preparatory to straightwaycommitting violence upon himself, that gentleman was prevailed upon,with difficulty, to promise that he wouldn't be a body. This great pointattained, Madame Mantalini argued the question of the allowance, and MrMantalini did the same, taking occasion to show that he could live withuncommon satisfaction upon bread and water, and go clad in rags, butthat he could not support existence with the additional burden ofbeing mistrusted by the object of his most devoted and disinterestedaffection. This brought fresh tears into Madame Mantalini's eyes, whichhaving just begun to open to some few of the demerits of Mr Mantalini,were only open a very little way, and could be easily closed again. Theresult was, that without quite giving up the allowance question, MadameMantalini, postponed its further consideration; and Ralph saw, clearlyenough, that Mr Mantalini had gained a fresh lease of his easy life, andthat, for some time longer at all events, his degradation and downfallwere postponed.

'But it will come soon enough,' thought Ralph; 'all love--bah! that Ishould use the cant of boys and girls--is fleeting enough; though thatwhich has its sole root in the admiration of a whiskered face like thatof yonder baboon, perhaps lasts the longest, as it originates in thegreater blindness and is fed by vanity. Meantime the fools bring gristto my mill, so let them live out their day, and the longer it is, thebetter.'

These agreeable reflections occurred to Ralph Nickleby, as sundry smallcaresses and endearments, supposed to be unseen, were exchanged betweenthe objects of his thoughts.

'If you have nothing more to say, my dear, to Mr Nickleby,' said MadameMantalini, 'we will take our leaves. I am sure we have detained him muchtoo long already.'

Mr Mantalini answered, in the first instance, by tapping MadameMantalini several times on the nose, and then, by remarking in wordsthat he had nothing more to say.

'Demmit! I have, though,' he added almost immediately, drawing Ralphinto a corner. 'Here's an affair about your friend Sir Mulberry. Such ademd extraordinary out-of-the-way kind of thing as never was--eh?'

'What do you mean?' asked Ralph.

'Don't you know, demmit?' asked Mr Mantalini.

'I see by the paper that he was thrown from his cabriolet last night,and severely injured, and that his life is in some danger,' answeredRalph with great composure; 'but I see nothing extraordinary inthat--accidents are not miraculous events, when men live hard, and driveafter dinner.'

'Whew!' cried Mr Mantalini in a long shrill whistle. 'Then don't youknow how it was?'

'Not unless it was as I have just supposed,' replied Ralph, shrugginghis shoulders carelessly, as if to give his questioner to understandthat he had no curiosity upon the subject.

'Demmit, you amaze me,' cried Mantalini.

Ralph shrugged his shoulders again, as if it were no great feat to amazeMr Mantalini, and cast a wistful glance at the face of Newman Noggs,which had several times appeared behind a couple of panes of glass inthe room door; it being a part of Newman's duty, when unimportant peoplecalled, to make various feints of supposing that the bell had rung forhim to show them out: by way of a gentle hint to such visitors that itwas time to go.

'Don't you know,' said Mr Mantalini, taking Ralph by the button, 'thatit wasn't an accident at all, but a demd, furious, manslaughteringattack made upon him by your nephew?'

'What!' snarled Ralph, clenching his fists and turning a livid white.

'Demmit, Nickleby, you're as great a tiger as he is,' said Mantalini,alarmed at these demonstrations.

'Go on,' cried Ralph. 'Tell me what you mean. What is this story? Whotold you? Speak,' growled Ralph. 'Do you hear me?'

''Gad, Nickleby,' said Mr Mantalini, retreating towards his wife, 'whata demneble fierce old evil genius you are! You're enough to frighten thelife and soul out of her little delicious wits--flying all at once intosuch a blazing, ravaging, raging passion as never was, demmit!'

'Pshaw,' rejoined Ralph, forcing a smile. 'It is but manner.'

'It is a demd uncomfortable, private-madhouse-sort of a manner,' said MrMantalini, picking up his cane.

Ralph affected to smile, and once more inquired from whom Mr Mantalinihad derived his information.

'From Pyke; and a demd, fine, pleasant, gentlemanly dog it is,' repliedMantalini. 'Demnition pleasant, and a tip-top sawyer.'

'And what said he?' asked Ralph, knitting his brows.

'That it happened this way--that your nephew met him at a coffeehouse,fell upon him with the most demneble ferocity, followed him to his cab,swore he would ride home with him, if he rode upon the horse's back orhooked himself on to the horse's tail; smashed his countenance, whichis a demd fine countenance in its natural state; frightened the horse,pitched out Sir Mulberry and himself, and--'

'And was killed?' interposed Ralph with gleaming eyes. 'Was he? Is hedead?'

Mantalini shook his head.

'Ugh,' said Ralph, turning away. 'Then he has done nothing. Stay,'he added, looking round again. 'He broke a leg or an arm, or put hisshoulder out, or fractured his collar-bone, or ground a rib or two? Hisneck was saved for the halter, but he got some painful and slow-healinginjury for his trouble? Did he? You must have heard that, at least.'

'No,' rejoined Mantalini, shaking his head again. 'Unless he was dashedinto such little pieces that they blew away, he wasn't hurt, for he wentoff as quiet and comfortable as--as--as demnition,' said Mr Mantalini,rather at a loss for a simile.

'And what,' said Ralph, hesitating a little, 'what was the cause ofquarrel?'

'You are the demdest, knowing hand,' replied Mr Mantalini, in anadmiring tone, 'the cunningest, rummest, superlativest old fox--ohdem!--to pretend now not to know that it was the little bright-eyedniece--the softest, sweetest, prettiest--'

'Alfred!' interposed Madame Mantalini.

'She is always right,' rejoined Mr Mantalini soothingly, 'and when shesays it is time to go, it is time, and go she shall; and when she walksalong the streets with her own tulip, the women shall say, with envy,she has got a demd fine husband; and the men shall say with rapture,he has got a demd fine wife; and they shall both be right and neitherwrong, upon my life and soul--oh demmit!'

With which remarks, and many more, no less intellectual and to thepurpose, Mr Mantalini kissed the fingers of his gloves to RalphNickleby, and drawing his lady's arm through his, led her mincinglyaway.

'So, so,' muttered Ralph, dropping into his chair; 'this devil is looseagain, and thwarting me, as he was born to do, at every turn. He toldme once there should be a day of reckoning between us, sooner or later.I'll make him a true prophet, for it shall surely come.'

'Are you at home?' asked Newman, suddenly popping in his head.

'No,' replied Ralph, with equal abruptness.

Newman withdrew his head, but thrust it in again.

'You're quite sure you're not at home, are you?' said Newman.

'What does the idiot mean?' cried Ralph, testily.

'He has been waiting nearly ever since they first came in, and may haveheard your voice--that's all,' said Newman, rubbing his hands.

'Who has?' demanded Ralph, wrought by the intelligence he had justheard, and his clerk's provoking coolness, to an intense pitch ofirritation.

The necessity of a reply was superseded by the unlooked-for entranceof a third party--the individual in question--who, bringing his oneeye (for he had but one) to bear on Ralph Nickleby, made a great manyshambling bows, and sat himself down in an armchair, with his hands onhis knees, and his short black trousers drawn up so high in the legs bythe exertion of seating himself, that they scarcely reached below thetops of his Wellington boots.

'Why, this IS a surprise!' said Ralph, bending his gaze upon thevisitor, and half smiling as he scrutinised him attentively; 'I shouldknow your face, Mr Squeers.'

'Ah!' replied that worthy, 'and you'd have know'd it better, sir, ifit hadn't been for all that I've been a-going through. Just lift thatlittle boy off the tall stool in the back-office, and tell him to comein here, will you, my man?' said Squeers, addressing himself to Newman.'Oh, he's lifted his-self off. My son, sir, little Wackford. What do youthink of him, sir, for a specimen of the Dotheboys Hall feeding? Ain'the fit to bust out of his clothes, and start the seams, and make thevery buttons fly off with his fatness? Here's flesh!' cried Squeers,turning the boy about, and indenting the plumpest parts of his figurewith divers pokes and punches, to the great discomposure of his sonand heir. 'Here's firmness, here's solidness! Why you can hardly get upenough of him between your finger and thumb to pinch him anywheres.'

In however good condition Master Squeers might have been, he certainlydid not present this remarkable compactness of person, for on hisfather's closing his finger and thumb in illustration of his remark,he uttered a sharp cry, and rubbed the place in the most natural mannerpossible.

'Well,' remarked Squeers, a little disconcerted, 'I had him there; butthat's because we breakfasted early this morning, and he hasn't had hislunch yet. Why you couldn't shut a bit of him in a door, when he's hadhis dinner. Look at them tears, sir,' said Squeers, with a triumphantair, as Master Wackford wiped his eyes with the cuff of his jacket,'there's oiliness!'

'He looks well, indeed,' returned Ralph, who, for some purposes of hisown, seemed desirous to conciliate the schoolmaster. 'But how is MrsSqueers, and how are you?'

'Mrs Squeers, sir,' replied the proprietor of Dotheboys, 'is as shealways is--a mother to them lads, and a blessing, and a comfort, anda joy to all them as knows her. One of our boys--gorging his-self withvittles, and then turning in; that's their way--got a abscess on himlast week. To see how she operated upon him with a pen-knife! Oh Lor!'said Squeers, heaving a sigh, and nodding his head a great many times,'what a member of society that woman is!'

Mr Squeers indulged in a retrospective look, for some quarter of aminute, as if this allusion to his lady's excellences had naturallyled his mind to the peaceful village of Dotheboys near Greta Bridgein Yorkshire; and then looked at Ralph, as if waiting for him to saysomething.

'Have you quite recovered that scoundrel's attack?' asked Ralph.

'I've only just done it, if I've done it now,' replied Squeers. 'I wasone blessed bruise, sir,' said Squeers, touching first the roots of hishair, and then the toes of his boots, 'from HERE to THERE. Vinegar andbrown paper, vinegar and brown paper, from morning to night. I supposethere was a matter of half a ream of brown paper stuck upon me, fromfirst to last. As I laid all of a heap in our kitchen, plastered allover, you might have thought I was a large brown-paper parcel, chockfull of nothing but groans. Did I groan loud, Wackford, or did I groansoft?' asked Mr Squeers, appealing to his son.

'Loud,' replied Wackford.

'Was the boys sorry to see me in such a dreadful condition, Wackford, orwas they glad?' asked Mr Squeers, in a sentimental manner.

'Gl--'

'Eh?' cried Squeers, turning sharp round.

'Sorry,' rejoined his son.

'Oh!' said Squeers, catching him a smart box on the ear. 'Then takeyour hands out of your pockets, and don't stammer when you're asked aquestion. Hold your noise, sir, in a gentleman's office, or I'll runaway from my family and never come back any more; and then what wouldbecome of all them precious and forlorn lads as would be let loose onthe world, without their best friend at their elbers?'

'Were you obliged to have medical attendance?' inquired Ralph.

'Ay, was I,' rejoined Squeers, 'and a precious bill the medicalattendant brought in too; but I paid it though.'

Ralph elevated his eyebrows in a manner which might be expressive ofeither sympathy or astonishment--just as the beholder was pleased totake it.

'Yes, I paid it, every farthing,' replied Squeers, who seemed to knowthe man he had to deal with, too well to suppose that any blinking ofthe question would induce him to subscribe towards the expenses; 'Iwasn't out of pocket by it after all, either.'

'No!' said Ralph.

'Not a halfpenny,' replied Squeers. 'The fact is, we have only one extrawith our boys, and that is for doctors when required--and not then,unless we're sure of our customers. Do you see?'

'I understand,' said Ralph.

'Very good,' rejoined Squeers. 'Then, after my bill was run up, wepicked out five little boys (sons of small tradesmen, as was sure pay)that had never had the scarlet fever, and we sent one to a cottage wherethey'd got it, and he took it, and then we put the four others to sleepwith him, and THEY took it, and then the doctor came and attended 'emonce all round, and we divided my total among 'em, and added it on totheir little bills, and the parents paid it. Ha! ha! ha!'

'And a good plan too,' said Ralph, eyeing the schoolmaster stealthily.

'I believe you,' rejoined Squeers. 'We always do it. Why, when MrsSqueers was brought to bed with little Wackford here, we ran thehooping-cough through half-a-dozen boys, and charged her expenses among'em, monthly nurse included. Ha! ha! ha!'

Ralph never laughed, but on this occasion he produced the nearestapproach to it that he could, and waiting until Mr Squeers had enjoyedthe professional joke to his heart's content, inquired what had broughthim to town.

'Some bothering law business,' replied Squeers, scratching his head,'connected with an action, for what they call neglect of a boy. I don'tknow what they would have. He had as good grazing, that boy had, asthere is about us.'

Ralph looked as if he did not quite understand the observation.

'Grazing,' said Squeers, raising his voice, under the impression that asRalph failed to comprehend him, he must be deaf. 'When a boy gets weakand ill and don't relish his meals, we give him a change of diet--turnhim out, for an hour or so every day, into a neighbour's turnip field,or sometimes, if it's a delicate case, a turnip field and a piece ofcarrots alternately, and let him eat as many as he likes. There an'tbetter land in the country than this perwerse lad grazed on, and yet hegoes and catches cold and indigestion and what not, and then his friendsbrings a lawsuit against ME! Now, you'd hardly suppose,' added Squeers,moving in his chair with the impatience of an ill-used man, 'thatpeople's ingratitude would carry them quite as far as that; would you?'

'A hard case, indeed,' observed Ralph.

'You don't say more than the truth when you say that,' replied Squeers.'I don't suppose there's a man going, as possesses the fondness foryouth that I do. There's youth to the amount of eight hundred pound ayear at Dotheboys Hall at this present time. I'd take sixteen hundredpound worth if I could get 'em, and be as fond of every individualtwenty pound among 'em as nothing should equal it!'

'Are you stopping at your old quarters?' asked Ralph.

'Yes, we are at the Saracen,' replied Squeers, 'and as it don't wantvery long to the end of the half-year, we shall continney to stop theretill I've collected the money, and some new boys too, I hope. I'vebrought little Wackford up, on purpose to show to parents andguardians. I shall put him in the advertisement, this time. Look at thatboy--himself a pupil. Why he's a miracle of high feeding, that boy is!'

'I should like to have a word with you,' said Ralph, who had bothspoken and listened mechanically for some time, and seemed to have beenthinking.

'As many words as you like, sir,' rejoined Squeers. 'Wackford, you goand play in the back office, and don't move about too much or you'll getthin, and that won't do. You haven't got such a thing as twopence, MrNickleby, have you?' said Squeers, rattling a bunch of keys in his coatpocket, and muttering something about its being all silver.

'I--think I have,' said Ralph, very slowly, and producing, after muchrummaging in an old drawer, a penny, a halfpenny, and two farthings.

'Thankee,' said Squeers, bestowing it upon his son. 'Here! You go andbuy a tart--Mr Nickleby's man will show you where--and mind you buy arich one. Pastry,' added Squeers, closing the door on Master Wackford,'makes his flesh shine a good deal, and parents thinks that a healthysign.'

With this explanation, and a peculiarly knowing look to eke it out,Mr Squeers moved his chair so as to bring himself opposite to RalphNickleby at no great distance off; and having planted it to his entiresatisfaction, sat down.

'Attend to me,' said Ralph, bending forward a little.

Squeers nodded.

'I am not to suppose,' said Ralph, 'that you are dolt enough to forgiveor forget, very readily, the violence that was committed upon you, orthe exposure which accompanied it?'

'Devil a bit,' replied Squeers, tartly.

'Or to lose an opportunity of repaying it with interest, if you couldget one?' said Ralph.

'Show me one, and try,' rejoined Squeers.

'Some such object it was, that induced you to call on me?' said Ralph,raising his eyes to the schoolmaster's face.

'N-n-no, I don't know that,' replied Squeers. 'I thought that if itwas in your power to make me, besides the trifle of money you sent, anycompensation--'

'Ah!' cried Ralph, interrupting him. 'You needn't go on.'

After a long pause, during which Ralph appeared absorbed incontemplation, he again broke silence by asking:

'Who is this boy that he took with him?'

Squeers stated his name.

'Was he young or old, healthy or sickly, tractable or rebellious? Speakout, man,' retorted Ralph.

'Why, he wasn't young,' answered Squeers; 'that is, not young for a boy,you know.'

'That is, he was not a boy at all, I suppose?' interrupted Ralph.

'Well,' returned Squeers, briskly, as if he felt relieved by thesuggestion, 'he might have been nigh twenty. He wouldn't seem so old,though, to them as didn't know him, for he was a little wanting here,'touching his forehead; 'nobody at home, you know, if you knocked ever sooften.'

'And you DID knock pretty often, I dare say?' muttered Ralph.

'Pretty well,' returned Squeers with a grin.

'When you wrote to acknowledge the receipt of this trifle of money asyou call it,' said Ralph, 'you told me his friends had deserted him longago, and that you had not the faintest clue or trace to tell you who hewas. Is that the truth?'

'It is, worse luck!' replied Squeers, becoming more and more easy andfamiliar in his manner, as Ralph pursued his inquiries with the lessreserve. 'It's fourteen years ago, by the entry in my book, since astrange man brought him to my place, one autumn night, and left himthere; paying five pound five, for his first quarter in advance. Hemight have been five or six year old at that time--not more.'

'What more do you know about him?' demanded Ralph.

'Devilish little, I'm sorry to say,' replied Squeers. 'The money waspaid for some six or eight year, and then it stopped. He had given anaddress in London, had this chap; but when it came to the point, ofcourse nobody knowed anything about him. So I kept the lad out of--outof--'

'Charity?' suggested Ralph drily.

'Charity, to be sure,' returned Squeers, rubbing his knees, 'and when hebegins to be useful in a certain sort of way, this young scoundrel ofa Nickleby comes and carries him off. But the most vexatious andaggeravating part of the whole affair is,' said Squeers, dropping hisvoice, and drawing his chair still closer to Ralph, 'that some questionshave been asked about him at last--not of me, but, in a roundabout kindof way, of people in our village. So, that just when I might have hadall arrears paid up, perhaps, and perhaps--who knows? such things havehappened in our business before--a present besides for putting him outto a farmer, or sending him to sea, so that he might never turn up todisgrace his parents, supposing him to be a natural boy, as many of ourboys are--damme, if that villain of a Nickleby don't collar him in openday, and commit as good as highway robbery upon my pocket.'

'We will both cry quits with him before long,' said Ralph, laying hishand on the arm of the Yorkshire schoolmaster.

'Quits!' echoed Squeers. 'Ah! and I should like to leave a small balancein his favour, to be settled when he can. I only wish Mrs Squeers couldcatch hold of him. Bless her heart! She'd murder him, Mr Nickleby--shewould, as soon as eat her dinner.'

'We will talk of this again,' said Ralph. 'I must have time to think ofit. To wound him through his own affections and fancies--. If I couldstrike him through this boy--'

'Strike him how you like, sir,' interrupted Squeers, 'only hit him hardenough, that's all--and with that, I'll say good-morning. Here!--justchuck that little boy's hat off that corner peg, and lift him off thestool will you?'

Bawling these requests to Newman Noggs, Mr Squeers betook himself to thelittle back-office, and fitted on his child's hat with parental anxiety,while Newman, with his pen behind his ear, sat, stiff and immovable, onhis stool, regarding the father and son by turns with a broad stare.

'He's a fine boy, an't he?' said Squeers, throwing his head a littleon one side, and falling back to the desk, the better to estimate theproportions of little Wackford.

'Very,' said Newman.

'Pretty well swelled out, an't he?' pursued Squeers. 'He has the fatnessof twenty boys, he has.'

'Ah!' replied Newman, suddenly thrusting his face into that of Squeers,'he has;--the fatness of twenty!--more! He's got it all. God help thatothers. Ha! ha! Oh Lord!'

Having uttered these fragmentary observations, Newman dropped upon hisdesk and began to write with most marvellous rapidity.

'Why, what does the man mean?' cried Squeers, colouring. 'Is he drunk?'

Newman made no reply.

'Is he mad?' said Squeers.

But, still Newman betrayed no consciousness of any presence save hisown; so, Mr Squeers comforted himself by saying that he was both drunkAND mad; and, with this parting observation, he led his hopeful sonaway.

In exact proportion as Ralph Nickleby became conscious of a strugglingand lingering regard for Kate, had his detestation of Nicholasaugmented. It might be, that to atone for the weakness of inclining toany one person, he held it necessary to hate some other more intenselythan before; but such had been the course of his feelings. And now,to be defied and spurned, to be held up to her in the worst and mostrepulsive colours, to know that she was taught to hate and despisehim: to feel that there was infection in his touch, and taint in hiscompanionship--to know all this, and to know that the mover of it allwas that same boyish poor relation who had twitted him in their veryfirst interview, and openly bearded and braved him since, wrought hisquiet and stealthy malignity to such a pitch, that there was scarcelyanything he would not have hazarded to gratify it, if he could have seenhis way to some immediate retaliation.

But, fortunately for Nicholas, Ralph Nickleby did not; and although hecast about all that day, and kept a corner of his brain working on theone anxious subject through all the round of schemes and business thatcame with it, night found him at last, still harping on the same theme,and still pursuing the same unprofitable reflections.

'When my brother was such as he,' said Ralph, 'the first comparisonswere drawn between us--always in my disfavour. HE was open, liberal,gallant, gay; I a crafty hunks of cold and stagnant blood, with nopassion but love of saving, and no spirit beyond a thirst for gain. Irecollected it well when I first saw this whipster; but I remember itbetter now.'

He had been occupied in tearing Nicholas's letter into atoms; and as hespoke, he scattered it in a tiny shower about him.

'Recollections like these,' pursued Ralph, with a bitter smile, 'flockupon me--when I resign myself to them--in crowds, and from countlessquarters. As a portion of the world affect to despise the power ofmoney, I must try and show them what it is.'

And being, by this time, in a pleasant frame of mind for slumber, RalphNickleby went to bed.