NICHOLAS NICKLEBY (Illustrated). Charles Dickens

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      ‘I do, indeed,’ replied Nicholas. ‘Needs must, you know, when somebody drives. Necessity is my driver, and that is only another name for the same gentleman.’

      ‘Well, I am very sorry for it; that’s all I can say,’ said Miss La Creevy; ‘as much on your mother’s and sister’s account as on yours. Your sister is a very pretty young lady, Mr. Nickleby, and that is an additional reason why she should have somebody to protect her. I persuaded her to give me a sitting or two, for the street-door case. ‘Ah! she’ll make a sweet miniature.’ As Miss La Creevy spoke, she held up an ivory countenance intersected with very perceptible sky-blue veins, and regarded it with so much complacency, that Nicholas quite envied her.

      ‘If you ever have an opportunity of showing Kate some little kindness,’ said Nicholas, presenting his hand, ‘I think you will.’

      ‘Depend upon that,’ said the good-natured miniature painter; ‘and God bless you, Mr. Nickleby; and I wish you well.’

      It was very little that Nicholas knew of the world, but he guessed enough about its ways to think, that if he gave Miss La Creevy one little kiss, perhaps she might not be the less kindly disposed towards those he was leaving behind. So, he gave her three or four with a kind of jocose gallantry, and Miss La Creevy evinced no greater symptoms of displeasure than declaring, as she adjusted her yellow turban, that she had never heard of such a thing, and couldn’t have believed it possible.

      Having terminated the unexpected interview in this satisfactory manner, Nicholas hastily withdrew himself from the house. By the time he had found a man to carry his box it was only seven o’clock, so he walked slowly on, a little in advance of the porter, and very probably with not half as light a heart in his breast as the man had, although he had no waistcoat to cover it with, and had evidently, from the appearance of his other garments, been spending the night in a stable, and taking his breakfast at a pump.

      Regarding, with no small curiosity and interest, all the busy preparations for the coming day which every street and almost every house displayed; and thinking, now and then, that it seemed rather hard that so many people of all ranks and stations could earn a livelihood in London, and that he should be compelled to journey so far in search of one; Nicholas speedily arrived at the Saracen’s Head, Snow Hill. Having dismissed his attendant, and seen the box safely deposited in the coach-office, he looked into the coffee-room in search of Mr. Squeers.

      He found that learned gentleman sitting at breakfast, with the three little boys before noticed, and two others who had turned up by some lucky chance since the interview of the previous day, ranged in a row on the opposite seat. Mr. Squeers had before him a small measure of coffee, a plate of hot toast, and a cold round of beef; but he was at that moment intent on preparing breakfast for the little boys.

      ‘This is twopenn’orth of milk, is it, waiter?’ said Mr. Squeers, looking down into a large blue mug, and slanting it gently, so as to get an accurate view of the quantity of liquid contained in it.

      ‘That’s twopenn’orth, sir,’ replied the waiter.

      ‘What a rare article milk is, to be sure, in London!’ said Mr. Squeers, with a sigh. ‘Just fill that mug up with lukewarm water, William, will you?’

      ‘To the wery top, sir?’ inquired the waiter. ‘Why, the milk will be drownded.’

      ‘Never you mind that,’ replied Mr. Squeers. ‘Serve it right for being so dear. You ordered that thick bread and butter for three, did you?’

      ‘Coming directly, sir.’

      ‘You needn’t hurry yourself,’ said Squeers; ‘there’s plenty of time. Conquer your passions, boys, and don’t be eager after vittles.’ As he uttered this moral precept, Mr. Squeers took a large bite out of the cold beef, and recognised Nicholas.

      ‘Sit down, Mr. Nickleby,’ said Squeers. ‘Here we are, a breakfasting you see!’

      Nicholas did not see that anybody was breakfasting, except Mr. Squeers; but he bowed with all becoming reverence, and looked as cheerful as he could.

      ‘Oh! that’s the milk and water, is it, William?’ said Squeers. ‘Very good; don’t forget the bread and butter presently.’

      At this fresh mention of the bread and butter, the five little boys looked very eager, and followed the waiter out, with their eyes; meanwhile Mr Squeers tasted the milk and water.

      ‘Ah!’ said that gentleman, smacking his lips, ‘here’s richness! Think of the many beggars and orphans in the streets that would be glad of this, little boys. A shocking thing hunger, isn’t it, Mr. Nickleby?’

      ‘Very shocking, sir,’ said Nicholas.

      ‘When I say number one,’ pursued Mr. Squeers, putting the mug before the children, ‘the boy on the left hand nearest the window may take a drink; and when I say number two, the boy next him will go in, and so till we come to number five, which is the last boy. Are you ready?’

      ‘Yes, sir,’ cried all the little boys with great eagerness.

      ‘That’s right,’ said Squeers, calmly getting on with his breakfast; ‘keep ready till I tell you to begin. Subdue your appetites, my dears, and you’ve conquered human natur. This is the way we inculcate strength of mind, Mr. Nickleby,’ said the schoolmaster, turning to Nicholas, and speaking with his mouth very full of beef and toast.

      Nicholas murmured something—he knew not what—in reply; and the little boys, dividing their gaze between the mug, the bread and butter (which had by this time arrived), and every morsel which Mr. Squeers took into his mouth, remained with strained eyes in torments of expectation.

      ‘Thank God for a good breakfast,’ said Squeers, when he had finished. ‘Number one may take a drink.’

      Number one seized the mug ravenously, and had just drunk enough to make him wish for more, when Mr. Squeers gave the signal for number two, who gave up at the same interesting moment to number three; and the process was repeated until the milk and water terminated with number five.

      ‘And now,’ said the schoolmaster, dividing the bread and butter for three into as many portions as there were children, ‘you had better look sharp with your breakfast, for the horn will blow in a minute or two, and then every boy leaves off.’

      Permission being thus given to fall to, the boys began to eat voraciously, and in desperate haste: while the schoolmaster (who was in high good humour after his meal) picked his teeth with a fork, and looked smilingly on. In a very short time, the horn was heard.

      ‘I thought it wouldn’t be long,’ said Squeers, jumping up and producing a little basket from under the seat; ‘put what you haven’t had time to eat, in here, boys! You’ll want it on the road!’

      Nicholas was considerably startled by these very economical arrangements; but he had no time to reflect upon them, for the little boys had to be got up to the top of the coach, and their boxes had to be brought out and put in, and Mr. Squeers’s luggage was to be seen carefully deposited in the boot, and all these offices were in his department. He was in the full heat and bustle of concluding these operations, when his uncle, Mr. Ralph Nickleby, accosted him.

      ‘Oh! here you are, sir!’ said Ralph. ‘Here are your mother and sister, sir.’

      ‘Where?’ cried Nicholas, looking hastily round.

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