Nicholas Nickleby. Чарльз Диккенс

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      ‘Certainly,’ replied that gentleman, in no way displeased at the reminiscence, inasmuch as it proved, beyond all doubt, what a high family Mrs. Kenwigs came of.

      ‘I shared in that feeling,’ said Mr. Lillyvick: ‘perhaps it was natural; perhaps it wasn’t.’

      A gentle murmur seemed to say, that, in one of Mr. Lillyvick’s station, the objection was not only natural, but highly praiseworthy.

      ‘I came round to him in time,’ said Mr. Lillyvick. ‘After they were married, and there was no help for it, I was one of the first to say that Kenwigs must be taken notice of. The family did take notice of him, in consequence, and on my representation; and I am bound to say – and proud to say – that I have always found him a very honest, well-behaved, upright, respectable sort of man. Kenwigs, shake hands.’

      ‘I am proud to do it, sir,’ said Mr. Kenwigs.

      ‘So am I, Kenwigs,’ rejoined Mr. Lillyvick.

      ‘A very happy life I have led with your niece, sir,’ said Kenwigs.

      ‘It would have been your own fault if you had not, sir,’ remarked Mr Lillyvick.

      ‘Morleena Kenwigs,’ cried her mother, at this crisis, much affected, ‘kiss your dear uncle!’

      The young lady did as she was requested, and the three other little girls were successively hoisted up to the collector’s countenance, and subjected to the same process, which was afterwards repeated on them by the majority of those present.

      ‘Oh dear, Mrs. Kenwigs,’ said Miss Petowker, ‘while Mr. Noggs is making that punch to drink happy returns in, do let Morleena go through that figure dance before Mr. Lillyvick.’

      ‘No, no, my dear,’ replied Mrs. Kenwigs, ‘it will only worry my uncle.’

      ‘It can’t worry him, I am sure,’ said Miss Petowker. ‘You will be very much pleased, won’t you, sir?’

      ‘That I am sure I shall’ replied the collector, glancing at the punch-mixer.

      ‘Well then, I’ll tell you what,’ said Mrs. Kenwigs, ‘Morleena shall do the steps, if uncle can persuade Miss Petowker to recite us the Blood-Drinker’s Burial, afterwards.’

      There was a great clapping of hands and stamping of feet, at this proposition; the subject whereof, gently inclined her head several times, in acknowledgment of the reception.

      ‘You know,’ said Miss Petowker, reproachfully, ‘that I dislike doing anything professional in private parties.’

      ‘Oh, but not here!’ said Mrs. Kenwigs. ‘We are all so very friendly and pleasant, that you might as well be going through it in your own room; besides, the occasion – ’

      ‘I can’t resist that,’ interrupted Miss Petowker; ‘anything in my humble power I shall be delighted to do.’

      Mrs. Kenwigs and Miss Petowker had arranged a small programme of the entertainments between them, of which this was the prescribed order, but they had settled to have a little pressing on both sides, because it looked more natural. The company being all ready, Miss Petowker hummed a tune, and Morleena danced a dance; having previously had the soles of her shoes chalked, with as much care as if she were going on the tight-rope. It was a very beautiful figure, comprising a great deal of work for the arms, and was received with unbounded applause.

      ‘If I was blessed with a – a child – ’ said Miss Petowker, blushing, ‘of such genius as that, I would have her out at the Opera instantly.’

      Mrs. Kenwigs sighed, and looked at Mr. Kenwigs, who shook his head, and observed that he was doubtful about it.

      ‘Kenwigs is afraid,’ said Mrs. K.

      ‘What of?’ inquired Miss Petowker, ‘not of her failing?’

      ‘Oh no,’ replied Mrs. Kenwigs, ‘but if she grew up what she is now, – only think of the young dukes and marquises.’

      ‘Very right,’ said the collector.

      ‘Still,’ submitted Miss Petowker, ‘if she took a proper pride in herself, you know – ’

      ‘There’s a good deal in that,’ observed Mrs. Kenwigs, looking at her husband.

      ‘I only know – ’ faltered Miss Petowker, – ‘it may be no rule to be sure – but I have never found any inconvenience or unpleasantness of that sort.’

      Mr. Kenwigs, with becoming gallantry, said that settled the question at once, and that he would take the subject into his serious consideration. This being resolved upon, Miss Petowker was entreated to begin the Blood-Drinker’s Burial; to which end, that young lady let down her back hair, and taking up her position at the other end of the room, with the bachelor friend posted in a corner, to rush out at the cue ‘in death expire,’ and catch her in his arms when she died raving mad, went through the performance with extraordinary spirit, and to the great terror of the little Kenwigses, who were all but frightened into fits.

      The ecstasies consequent upon the effort had not yet subsided, and Newman (who had not been thoroughly sober at so late an hour for a long long time,) had not yet been able to put in a word of announcement, that the punch was ready, when a hasty knock was heard at the room-door, which elicited a shriek from Mrs. Kenwigs, who immediately divined that the baby had fallen out of bed.

      ‘Who is that?’ demanded Mr. Kenwigs, sharply.

      ‘Don’t be alarmed, it’s only me,’ said Crowl, looking in, in his nightcap. ‘The baby is very comfortable, for I peeped into the room as I came down, and it’s fast asleep, and so is the girl; and I don’t think the candle will set fire to the bed-curtain, unless a draught was to get into the room – it’s Mr. Noggs that’s wanted.’

      ‘Me!’ cried Newman, much astonished.

      ‘Why, it is a queer hour, isn’t it?’ replied Crowl, who was not best pleased at the prospect of losing his fire; ‘and they are queer-looking people, too, all covered with rain and mud. Shall I tell them to go away?’

      ‘No,’ said Newman, rising. ‘People? How many?’

      ‘Two,’ rejoined Crowl.

      ‘Want me? By name?’ asked Newman.

      ‘By name,’ replied Crowl. ‘Mr. Newman Noggs, as pat as need be.’

      Newman reflected for a few seconds, and then hurried away, muttering that he would be back directly. He was as good as his word; for, in an exceedingly short time, he burst into the room, and seizing, without a word of apology or explanation, a lighted candle and tumbler of hot punch from the table, darted away like a madman.

      ‘What the deuce is the matter with him?’ exclaimed Crowl, throwing the door open. ‘Hark! Is there any noise above?’

      The guests rose in great confusion, and, looking in each other’s faces with much perplexity and some fear, stretched their necks forward, and listened attentively.

      CHAPTER 15