There had been a ring at the bell a few minutes before, which was answered by Newman Noggs just as they reached the hall. In the ordinary course of business Newman would have either admitted the new-comer in silence, or have requested him or her to stand aside while the gentlemen passed out. But he no sooner saw who it was, than as if for some private reason of his own, he boldly departed from the established custom of Ralph’s mansion in business hours, and looking towards the respectable trio who were approaching, cried in a loud and sonorous voice, ‘Mrs. Nickleby!’
‘Mrs. Nickleby!’ cried Sir Mulberry Hawk, as his friend looked back, and stared him in the face.
It was, indeed, that well-intentioned lady, who, having received an offer for the empty house in the city directed to the landlord, had brought it post-haste to Mr. Nickleby without delay.
‘Nobody you know,’ said Ralph. ‘Step into the office, my—my—dear. I’ll be with you directly.’
‘Nobody I know!’ cried Sir Mulberry Hawk, advancing to the astonished lady. ‘Is this Mrs. Nickleby—the mother of Miss Nickleby—the delightful creature that I had the happiness of meeting in this house the very last time I dined here? But no;’ said Sir Mulberry, stopping short. ‘No, it can’t be. There is the same cast of features, the same indescribable air of—But no; no. This lady is too young for that.’
‘I think you can tell the gentleman, brother-in-law, if it concerns him to know,’ said Mrs. Nickleby, acknowledging the compliment with a graceful bend, ‘that Kate Nickleby is my daughter.’
‘Her daughter, my lord!’ cried Sir Mulberry, turning to his friend. ‘This lady’s daughter, my lord.’
‘My lord!’ thought Mrs. Nickleby. ‘Well, I never did—’
‘This, then, my lord,’ said Sir Mulberry, ‘is the lady to whose obliging marriage we owe so much happiness. This lady is the mother of sweet Miss Nickleby. Do you observe the extraordinary likeness, my lord? Nickleby—introduce us.’
Ralph did so, in a kind of desperation.
‘Upon my soul, it’s a most delightful thing,’ said Lord Frederick, pressing forward. ‘How de do?’
Mrs. Nickleby was too much flurried by these uncommonly kind salutations, and her regrets at not having on her other bonnet, to make any immediate reply, so she merely continued to bend and smile, and betray great agitation.
‘A—and how is Miss Nickleby?’ said Lord Frederick. ‘Well, I hope?’
‘She is quite well, I’m obliged to you, my lord,’ returned Mrs. Nickleby, recovering. ‘Quite well. She wasn’t well for some days after that day she dined here, and I can’t help thinking, that she caught cold in that hackney coach coming home. Hackney coaches, my lord, are such nasty things, that it’s almost better to walk at any time, for although I believe a hackney coachman can be transported for life, if he has a broken window, still they are so reckless, that they nearly all have broken windows. I once had a swelled face for six weeks, my lord, from riding in a hackney coach—I think it was a hackney coach,’ said Mrs. Nickleby reflecting, ‘though I’m not quite certain whether it wasn’t a chariot; at all events I know it was a dark green, with a very long number, beginning with a nought and ending with a nine—no, beginning with a nine, and ending with a nought, that was it, and of course the stamp-office people would know at once whether it was a coach or a chariot if any inquiries were made there—however that was, there it was with a broken window and there was I for six weeks with a swelled face—I think that was the very same hackney coach, that we found out afterwards, had the top open all the time, and we should never even have known it, if they hadn’t charged us a shilling an hour extra for having it open, which it seems is the law, or was then, and a most shameful law it appears to be—I don’t understand the subject, but I should say the Corn Laws could be nothing to that act of Parliament.’
Having pretty well run herself out by this time, Mrs. Nickleby stopped as suddenly as she had started off; and repeated that Kate was quite well. ‘Indeed,’ said Mrs. Nickleby, ‘I don’t think she ever was better, since she had the hooping-cough, scarlet-fever, and measles, all at the same time, and that’s the fact.’
‘Is that letter for me?’ growled Ralph, pointing to the little packet Mrs Nickleby held in her hand.
‘For you, brother-in-law,’ replied Mrs. Nickleby, ‘and I walked all the way up here on purpose to give it you.’
‘All the way up here!’ cried Sir Mulberry, seizing upon the chance of discovering where Mrs. Nickleby had come from. ‘What a confounded distance! How far do you call it now?’
‘How far do I call it?’ said Mrs. Nickleby. ‘Let me see. It’s just a mile from our door to the Old Bailey.’
‘No, no. Not so much as that,’ urged Sir Mulberry.
‘Oh! It is indeed,’ said Mrs. Nickleby. ‘I appeal to his lordship.’
‘I should decidedly say it was a mile,’ remarked Lord Frederick, with a solemn aspect.
‘It must be; it can’t be a yard less,’ said Mrs. Nickleby. ‘All down Newgate Street, all down Cheapside, all up Lombard Street, down Gracechurch Street, and along Thames Street, as far as Spigwiffin’s Wharf. Oh! It’s a mile.’
‘Yes, on second thoughts I should say it was,’ replied Sir Mulberry. ‘But you don’t surely mean to walk all the way back?’
‘Oh, no,’ rejoined Mrs. Nickleby. ‘I shall go back in an omnibus. I didn’t travel about in omnibuses, when my poor dear Nicholas was alive, brother-in-law. But as it is, you know—’
‘Yes, yes,’ replied Ralph impatiently, ‘and you had better get back before dark.’
‘Thank you, brother-in-law, so I had,’ returned Mrs. Nickleby. ‘I think I had better say goodbye, at once.’
‘Not stop and—rest?’ said Ralph, who seldom offered refreshments unless something was to be got by it.
‘Oh dear me no,’ returned Mrs. Nickleby, glancing at the dial.
‘Lord Frederick,’ said Sir Mulberry, ‘we are going Mrs. Nickleby’s way. We’ll see her safe to the omnibus?’
‘By all means. Ye-es.’
‘Oh! I really couldn’t think of it!’ said Mrs. Nickleby.
But Sir Mulberry Hawk and Lord Verisopht were peremptory in their politeness, and leaving Ralph, who seemed to think, not unwisely, that he looked less ridiculous as a mere spectator, than he would have done if he had taken any part in these proceedings, they quitted the house with Mrs Nickleby between them; that good lady in a perfect ecstasy of satisfaction, no less with the attentions shown her by two titled gentlemen, than with the conviction that Kate might now pick and choose, at least between two large fortunes, and most unexceptionable husbands.
As she was carried away for the moment by an irresistible train of thought, all connected with her daughter’s future greatness, Sir Mulberry Hawk and his friend exchanged glances over the top of the bonnet which the poor lady so much regretted not having left at home, and proceeded to dilate with great rapture, but much respect on the manifold perfections of Miss Nickleby.
‘What a delight, what a comfort, what a happiness, this amiable creature must be to you,’ said Sir Mulberry, throwing into his voice an indication of the warmest feeling.
‘She is indeed, sir,’ replied Mrs. Nickleby; ‘she