Chapter 34

by Charles Dickens

　　Wherein Mr Ralph Nickleby is visited by Persons with whom the Readerhas been already made acquainted'What a demnition long time you have kept me ringing at thisconfounded old cracked tea-kettle of a bell, every tinkle of whichis enough to throw a strong man into blue convulsions, upon my lifeand soul, oh demmit,'--said Mr Mantalini to Newman Noggs, scrapinghis boots, as he spoke, 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 makinghis way to the door of Ralph's office with very little ceremony,when Newman interposed his body; and hinting that Mr Nickleby wasunwilling to be disturbed, inquired whether the client's businesswas of a pressing nature.'It is most demnebly particular,' said Mr Mantalini. 'It is to meltsome scraps of dirty paper into bright, shining, chinking, tinkling,demd mint sauce.'Newman uttered a significant grunt, and taking Mr Mantalini'sproffered card, limped with it into his master's office. As hethrust his head in at the door, he saw that Ralph had resumed thethoughtful posture into which he had fallen after perusing hisnephew's letter, and that he seemed to have been reading it again,as he once more held it open in his hand. The glance was butmomentary, for Ralph, being disturbed, turned to demand the cause ofthe interruption.As Newman stated it, the cause himself swaggered into the room, andgrasping Ralph's horny hand with uncommon affection, vowed that hehad never seen him looking so well in all his life.'There is quite a bloom upon your demd countenance,' said MrMantalini, seating himself unbidden, and arranging his hair andwhiskers. 'You look quite 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, andshaking his 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 wouldrather not; 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--for five-and-twenty pounds,' said Ralph, deliberately.'Oh demmit!' cried Mr Mantalini, whose face lengthened considerablyat this handsome proposal.'Why, that leaves you fifty,' retorted Ralph. 'What would you have?Let me see the names.''You are so demd hard, Nickleby,' remonstrated Mr Mantalini.'Let me see the names,' replied Ralph, impatiently extending hishand for the bills. 'Well! They are not sure, but they are safeenough. Do you consent to the terms, and will you take the money?I don't want you to 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 pretendingto negotiate with some other party who has no existence, and neverhad. Is it a bargain, or is it not?'Ralph pushed some papers from him as he spoke, and carelesslyrattled his cash-box, as though by mere accident. The sound was toomuch for Mr Mantalini. He closed the bargain directly it reachedhis ears, and Ralph told the money out upon the table.He had scarcely done so, and Mr Mantalini had not yet gathered itall up, when a ring was heard at the bell, and immediatelyafterwards Newman ushered in no less a person than Madame Mantalini,at sight of whom Mr Mantalini evinced considerable discomposure, andswept the cash into his pocket 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 straysovereign. 'I am here, my soul's delight, upon Tom Tiddler's ground,picking up the demnition 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 charmingsweetness, but naughty fibs,' returned Mr Mantalini. 'It knows itis not ashamed of its own popolorum tibby.'Whatever were the circumstances which had led to such a result, itcertainly appeared as though the popolorum tibby had rathermiscalculated, for the nonce, the extent of his lady's affection.Madame Mantalini only looked scornful in reply; and, turning toRalph, begged him to excuse her intrusion.'Which is entirely attributable,' said Madame, 'to the grossmisconduct and 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 notsubmit to be ruined by the extravagance and profligacy of any man.I call Mr Nickleby to witness the course I intend to pursue withyou.''Pray don't call me to witness anything, ma'am,' said Ralph.'Settle it between yourselves, settle it between yourselves.''No, but I must beg you as a favour,' said Madame Mantalini, 'tohear me give him notice of what it is my fixed intention to do--myfixed intention, sir,' repeated Madame Mantalini, darting an angrylook at her husband.'Will she call me "Sir"?' cried Mantalini. 'Me who dote upon herwith the demdest ardour! She, who coils her fascinations round melike a pure angelic rattlesnake! It will be all up with myfeelings; she will throw me 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 MrMantalini, Madame Mantalini still said no, and said it too with suchdetermined and resolute ill-temper, that Mr Mantalini was clearlytaken aback.'His extravagance, Mr Nickleby,' said Madame Mantalini, addressingherself to Ralph, who leant against his easy-chair with his handsbehind him, and regarded the amiable couple with a smile of thesupremest and most unmitigated contempt,--'his extravagance isbeyond 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 constantapprehensions, and in constant difficulty. And even this,' saidMadame Mantalini, wiping her eyes, 'is not the worst. He took somepapers of value out of my desk this morning without asking mypermission.'Mr Mantalini groaned slightly, and buttoned his trousers pocket.'I am obliged,' continued Madame Mantalini, 'since our latemisfortunes, to pay Miss Knag a great deal of money for having hername in the business, and I really cannot afford to encourage him inall his wastefulness. As I have no doubt that he came straighthere, Mr Nickleby, to convert the papers I have spoken of, intomoney, and as you have assisted us very often before, and are verymuch connected with us in this kind of matters, I wish you to knowthe determination at which his 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, hewhipped the coin into his pocket, and groaned again with increasedpenitence.'I have made up my mind,' said Madame Mantalini, as tokens ofimpatience manifested themselves in Ralph's countenance, 'toallowance him.''To do that, my joy?' inquired Mr Mantalini, who did not seem tohave caught 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 himupon a fixed allowance; and I say that if he has a hundred andtwenty pounds a year for his clothes and pocket-money, he mayconsider himself a very fortunate man.'Mr Mantalini waited, with much decorum, to hear the amount of theproposed stipend, but when it reached his ears, he cast his hat andcane upon the floor, and drawing out his pocket-handkerchief, gavevent to his 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 ofhis lady's nerves. 'But no. It is a demd horrid dream. It is notreality. No!'Comforting himself with this assurance, Mr Mantalini closed his eyesand waited patiently till such time as he should wake up.'A very judicious arrangement,' observed Ralph with a sneer, 'ifyour husband 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 beforeme. There is the graceful outline of her form; it cannot bemistaken--there is nothing like it. The two countesses had nooutlines at all, and the dowager's was a demd outline. Why is sheso excruciatingly beautiful that I cannot be angry with her, evennow?''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 thehead. 'I will fill my pockets with change for a sovereign inhalfpence and drown myself in the Thames; but I will not be angrywith her, even then, for I will put a note in the twopenny-post as Igo along, to tell her where the body is. She will be a lovelywidow. I shall be a body. Some handsome women will cry; she willlaugh demnebly.''Alfred, you cruel, cruel creature,' said Madame Mantalini, sobbingat the 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 myheart into a demd extraordinary number of little pieces, and giventhem all away, one after another, to the same little engrossingdemnition captivater, 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 properone,' 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;and after a great quantity of tears and talking, and severalattempts on the part of Mr Mantalini to reach the door, preparatoryto straightway committing violence upon himself, that gentleman wasprevailed upon, with difficulty, to promise that he wouldn't be abody. This great point attained, Madame Mantalini argued thequestion of the allowance, and Mr Mantalini did the same, takingoccasion to show that he could live with uncommon satisfaction uponbread and water, and go clad in rags, but that he could not supportexistence with the additional burden of being mistrusted by theobject of his most devoted and disinterested affection. Thisbrought fresh tears into Madame Mantalini's eyes, which having justbegun to open to some few of the demerits of Mr Mantalini, were onlyopen a very little way, and could be easily closed again. Theresult was, that without quite giving up the allowance question,Madame Mantalini, postponed its further consideration; and Ralphsaw, clearly enough, that Mr Mantalini had gained a fresh lease ofhis easy life, and that, for some time longer at all events, hisdegradation and downfall were postponed.'But it will come soon enough,' thought Ralph; 'all love--bah! thatI should use the cant of boys and girls--is fleeting enough; thoughthat which has its sole root in the admiration of a whiskered facelike that of yonder baboon, perhaps lasts the longest, as itoriginates in the greater blindness and is fed by vanity. Meantimethe fools bring grist to my mill, so let them live out their day,and the longer it is, the better.'These agreeable reflections occurred to Ralph Nickleby, as sundrysmall caresses and endearments, supposed to be unseen, wereexchanged between the objects of his thoughts.'If you have nothing more to say, my dear, to Mr Nickleby,' saidMadame Mantalini, 'we will take our leaves. I am sure we havedetained him much too 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 a demd 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 lastnight, and severely injured, and that his life is in some danger,'answered Ralph with great composure; 'but I see nothingextraordinary in that--accidents are not miraculous events, when menlive hard, and drive after dinner.''Whew!' cried Mr Mantalini in a long shrill whistle. 'Then don'tyou know how it was?''Not unless it was as I have just supposed,' replied Ralph,shrugging his shoulders carelessly, as if to give his questioner tounderstand that 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 toamaze Mr Mantalini, and cast a wistful glance at the face of NewmanNoggs, which had several times appeared behind a couple of panes ofglass in the room door; it being a part of Newman's duty, whenunimportant people called, to make various feints of supposing thatthe bell had rung for him to show them out: by way of a gentle hintto such visitors that it was time to go.'Don't you know,' said Mr Mantalini, taking Ralph by the button,'that it wasn't an accident at all, but a demd, furious,manslaughtering attack made upon him by your nephew?''What!' snarled Ralph, clenching his fists and turning a lividwhite.'Demmit, Nickleby, you're as great a tiger as he is,' saidMantalini, alarmed at these demonstrations.'Go on,' cried Ralph. 'Tell me what you mean. What is this story?Who told you? Speak,' growled Ralph. 'Do you hear me?'''Gad, Nickleby,' said Mr Mantalini, retreating towards his wife,'what a demneble fierce old evil genius you are! You're enough tofrighten the life and soul out of her little delicious wits--flyingall at once into such a blazing, ravaging, raging passion as neverwas, demmit!''Pshaw,' rejoined Ralph, forcing a smile. 'It is but manner.''It is a demd uncomfortable, private-madhouse-sort of a manner,'said Mr Mantalini, picking up his cane.Ralph affected to smile, and once more inquired from whom MrMantalini had derived his information.'From Pyke; and a demd, fine, pleasant, gentlemanly dog it is,'replied Mantalini. '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 acoffeehouse, fell upon him with the most demneble ferocity, followedhim to his cab, swore he would ride home with him, if he rode uponthe horse's back or hooked himself on to the horse's tail; smashedhis countenance, which is a demd fine countenance in its naturalstate; frightened the horse, pitched out Sir Mulberry and himself,and--''And was killed?' interposed Ralph with gleaming eyes. 'Was he? Ishe dead?'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 puthis shoulder out, or fractured his collar-bone, or ground a rib ortwo? His neck was saved for the halter, but he got some painful andslow-healing injury for his trouble? Did he? You must have heardthat, at least.''No,' rejoined Mantalini, shaking his head again. 'Unless he wasdashed into such little pieces that they blew away, he wasn't hurt,for he went off as quiet and comfortable as--as--as demnition,' saidMr 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 whenshe says it is time to go, it is time, and go she shall; and whenshe walks along the streets with her own tulip, the women shall say,with envy, she has got a demd fine husband; and the men shall saywith rapture, he has got a demd fine wife; and they shall both beright and neither wrong, 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 isloose again, and thwarting me, as he was born to do, at every turn.He told me once there should be a day of reckoning between us,sooner or later. I'll make him a true prophet, for it shall surelycome.''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 mayhave heard 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 greatmany shambling bows, and sat himself down in an armchair, with hishands on his knees, and his short black trousers drawn up so high inthe legs by the exertion of seating himself, that they scarcelyreached below the tops of his Wellington boots.''Why, this is a surprise!' said Ralph, bending his gaze upon thevisitor, and half smiling as he scrutinised him attentively; 'Ishould know 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 liftthat little boy off the tall stool in the back-office, and tell himto come in here, will you, my man?' said Squeers, addressing himselfto Newman. 'Oh, he's lifted his-self off. My son, sir, littleWackford. What do you think of him, sir, for a specimen of theDotheboys Hall feeding? Ain't he fit to bust out of his clothes,and start the seams, and make the very buttons fly off with hisfatness? Here's flesh!' cried Squeers, turning the boy about, andindenting the plumpest parts of his figure with divers pokes andpunches, to the great discomposure of his son and heir. 'Here'sfirmness, here's solidness! Why you can hardly get up enough of himbetween your finger and thumb to pinch him anywheres.'In however good condition Master Squeers might have been, hecertainly did not present this remarkable compactness of person, foron his father's closing his finger and thumb in illustration of hisremark, he uttered a sharp cry, and rubbed the place in the mostnatural manner possible.'Well,' remarked Squeers, a little disconcerted, 'I had him there;but that's because we breakfasted early this morning, and he hasn'thad his lunch yet. Why you couldn't shut a bit of him in a door,when he's had his dinner. Look at them tears, sir,' said Squeers,with a triumphant air, as Master Wackford wiped his eyes with thecuff of his jacket, 'there's oiliness!''He looks well, indeed,' returned Ralph, who, for some purposes ofhis own, seemed desirous to conciliate the schoolmaster. 'But howis Mrs Squeers, 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-selfwith vittles, and then turning in; that's their way--got a abscesson him last week. To see how she operated upon him with a pen-knife!Oh Lor!' said Squeers, heaving a sigh, and nodding his head a greatmany 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. 'Iwas one blessed bruise, sir,' said Squeers, touching first the rootsof his hair, and then the toes of his boots, 'from here to there.Vinegar and brown paper, vinegar and brown paper, from morning tonight. I suppose there was a matter of half a ream of brown paperstuck upon me, from first to last. As I laid all of a heap in ourkitchen, plastered all over, you might have thought I was a largebrown-paper parcel, chock full of nothing but groans. Did I groanloud, Wackford, or did I groan soft?' asked Mr Squeers, appealing tohis son.'Loud,' replied Wackford.'Was the boys sorry to see me in such a dreadful condition,Wackford, or was they glad?' asked Mr Squeers, in a sentimentalmanner.'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 askeda question. Hold your noise, sir, in a gentleman's office, or I'llrun away from my family and never come back any more; and then whatwould become of all them precious and forlorn lads as would be letloose on the 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 toknow the man he had to deal with, too well to suppose that anyblinking of the question would induce him to subscribe towards theexpenses; 'I wasn't out of pocket by it after all, either.''No!' said Ralph.'Not a halfpenny,' replied Squeers. 'The fact is, we have only oneextra with our boys, and that is for doctors when required--and notthen, 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 surepay) that had never had the scarlet fever, and we sent one to acottage where they'd got it, and he took it, and then we put thefour others to sleep with him, and they took it, and then the doctorcame and attended 'em once all round, and we divided my total among'em, and added it on to their 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 expensesamong '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 hadenjoyed the professional joke to his heart's content, inquired whathad brought him to town.'Some bothering law business,' replied Squeers, scratching his head,'connected with an action, for what they call neglect of a boy. Idon't know what they would have. He had as good grazing, that boyhad, as there is about us.'Ralph looked as if he did not quite understand the observation.'Grazing,' said Squeers, raising his voice, under the impressionthat as Ralph failed to comprehend him, he must be deaf. 'When aboy gets weak and ill and don't relish his meals, we give him achange of diet--turn him out, for an hour or so every day, into aneighbour's turnip field, or sometimes, if it's a delicate case, aturnip field and a piece of carrots alternately, and let him eat asmany as he likes. There an't better land in the country than thisperwerse lad grazed on, and yet he goes and catches cold andindigestion and what not, and then his friends brings a lawsuitagainst me! Now, you'd hardly suppose,' added Squeers, moving inhis chair with the impatience of an ill-used man, 'that people'singratitude 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,' repliedSqueers. 'I don't suppose there's a man going, as possesses thefondness for youth that I do. There's youth to the amount of eighthundred pound a year at Dotheboys Hall at this present time. I'dtake sixteen hundred pound worth if I could get 'em, and be as fondof every individual twenty pound among 'em as nothing should equalit!''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 stopthere till I've collected the money, and some new boys too, I hope.I've brought little Wackford up, on purpose to show to parents andguardians. I shall put him in the advertisement, this time. Lookat that boy--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 havebeen thinking.'As many words as you like, sir,' rejoined Squeers. 'Wackford, yougo and play in the back office, and don't move about too much oryou'll get thin, and that won't do. You haven't got such a thing astwopence, Mr Nickleby, have you?' said Squeers, rattling a bunch ofkeys in his coat pocket, and muttering something about its being allsilver.'I--think I have,' said Ralph, very slowly, and producing, aftermuch rummaging in an old drawer, a penny, a halfpenny, and twofarthings.'Thankee,' said Squeers, bestowing it upon his son. 'Here! You goand buy a tart--Mr Nickleby's man will show you where--and mind youbuy a rich one. Pastry,' added Squeers, closing the door on MasterWackford, 'makes his flesh shine a good deal, and parents thinksthat a healthy sign.'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 hisentire satisfaction, 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 toforgive or forget, very readily, the violence that was committedupon you, or the exposure which accompanied it?''Devil a bit,' replied Squeers, tartly.'Or to lose an opportunity of repaying it with interest, if youcould get one?' said Ralph.'Show me one, and try,' rejoined Squeers.'Some such object it was, that induced you to call on me?' saidRalph, 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,any compensation--''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?Speak out, man,' retorted Ralph.'Why, he wasn't young,' answered Squeers; 'that is, not young for aboy, 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 soold, though, to them as didn't know him, for he was a little wantinghere,' touching his forehead; 'nobody at home, you know, if youknocked ever so often.''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 moneyas you call it,' said Ralph, 'you told me his friends had desertedhim long ago, and that you had not the faintest clue or trace totell you who he was. Is that the truth?''It is, worse luck!' replied Squeers, becoming more and more easyand familiar in his manner, as Ralph pursued his inquiries with theless reserve. 'It's fourteen years ago, by the entry in my book,since a strange man brought him to my place, one autumn night, andleft him there; paying five pound five, for his first quarter inadvance. He might have been five or six year old at that time--notmore.''What more do you know about him?' demanded Ralph.'Devilish little, I'm sorry to say,' replied Squeers. 'The moneywas paid for some six or eight year, and then it stopped. He hadgiven an address in London, had this chap; but when it came to thepoint, of course nobody knowed anything about him. So I kept thelad out of--out of--''Charity?' suggested Ralph drily.'Charity, to be sure,' returned Squeers, rubbing his knees, 'andwhen he begins to be useful in a certain sort of way, this youngscoundrel of a Nickleby comes and carries him off. But the mostvexatious and aggeravating part of the whole affair is,' saidSqueers, dropping his voice, and drawing his chair still closer toRalph, 'that some questions have been asked about him at last--notof me, but, in a roundabout kind of way, of people in our village.So, that just when I might have had all arrears paid up, perhaps,and perhaps--who knows? such things have happened in our businessbefore--a present besides for putting him out to a farmer, orsending him to sea, so that he might never turn up to disgrace hisparents, supposing him to be a natural boy, as many of our boys are--damme, if that villain of a Nickleby don't collar him in open day,and commit as good as highway robbery upon my pocket.''We will both cry quits with him before long,' said Ralph, layinghis hand on the arm of the Yorkshire schoolmaster.'Quits!' echoed Squeers. 'Ah! and I should like to leave a smallbalance in his favour, to be settled when he can. I only wish MrsSqueers could catch hold of him. Bless her heart! She'd murderhim, Mr Nickleby--she would, as soon as eat her dinner.''We will talk of this again,' said Ralph. 'I must have time tothink of it. To wound him through his own affections and fancies--.If I could strike him through this boy--''Strike him how you like, sir,' interrupted Squeers, 'only hit himhard enough, that's all--and with that, I'll say good-morning.Here!--just chuck that little boy's hat off that corner peg, andlift him off the stool will you?'Bawling these requests to Newman Noggs, Mr Squeers betook himself tothe little back-office, and fitted on his child's hat with parentalanxiety, while Newman, with his pen behind his ear, sat, stiff andimmovable, on his stool, regarding the father and son by turns witha 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 estimatethe proportions of little Wackford.'Very,' said Newman.'Pretty well swelled out, an't he?' pursued Squeers. 'He has thefatness of twenty boys, he has.''Ah!' replied Newman, suddenly thrusting his face into that ofSqueers, 'he has;--the fatness of twenty!--more! He's got it all.God help that others. Ha! ha! Oh Lord!'Having uttered these fragmentary observations, Newman dropped uponhis desk and began to write with most marvellous rapidity.'Why, what does the man mean?' cried Squeers, colouring. 'Is hedrunk?'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 bothdrunk and mad; and, with this parting observation, he led hishopeful son away.In exact proportion as Ralph Nickleby became conscious of astruggling and lingering regard for Kate, had his detestation ofNicholas augmented. It might be, that to atone for the weakness ofinclining to any one person, he held it necessary to hate some othermore intensely than before; but such had been the course of hisfeelings. And now, to be defied and spurned, to be held up to herin the worst and most repulsive colours, to know that she was taughtto hate and despise him: to feel that there was infection in histouch, and taint in his companionship--to know all this, and to knowthat the mover of it all was that same boyish poor relation who hadtwitted him in their very first interview, and openly bearded andbraved him since, wrought his quiet and stealthy malignity to such apitch, that there was scarcely anything he would not have hazardedto gratify it, if he could have seen his way to some immediateretaliation.But, fortunately for Nicholas, Ralph Nickleby did not; and althoughhe cast about all that day, and kept a corner of his brain workingon the one anxious subject through all the round of schemes andbusiness that came with it, night found him at last, still harpingon the same theme, and still pursuing the same unprofitablereflections.'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 no passion but love of saving, and no spirit beyond a thirstfor gain. I recollected it well when I first saw this whipster; butI remember it better now.'He had been occupied in tearing Nicholas's letter into atoms; and ashe spoke, he scattered it in a tiny shower about him.'Recollections like these,' pursued Ralph, with a bitter smile,'flock upon me--when I resign myself to them--in crowds, and fromcountless quarters. As a portion of the world affect to despise thepower of money, I must try and show them what it is.'And being, by this time, in a pleasant frame of mind for slumber,Ralph Nickleby went to bed.