Hello,Welcome!Log In to My AccountorCreate Account

Having established his mother and sister in the apartments of thekind-hearted miniature painter, and ascertained that Sir Mulberry Hawkwas in no danger of losing his life, Nicholas turned his thoughts topoor Smike, who, after breakfasting with Newman Noggs, had remained, ina disconsolate state, at that worthy creature's lodgings, waiting, withmuch anxiety, for further intelligence of his protector.

'As he will be one of our own little household, wherever we live,or whatever fortune is in reserve for us,' thought Nicholas, 'I mustpresent the poor fellow in due form. They will be kind to him for hisown sake, and if not (on that account solely) to the full extent I couldwish, they will stretch a point, I am sure, for mine.'

Nicholas said 'they', but his misgivings were confined to one person.He was sure of Kate, but he knew his mother's peculiarities, and wasnot quite so certain that Smike would find favour in the eyes of MrsNickleby.

'However,' thought Nicholas as he departed on his benevolent errand;'she cannot fail to become attached to him, when she knows what adevoted creature he is, and as she must quickly make the discovery, hisprobation will be a short one.'

'I was afraid,' said Smike, overjoyed to see his friend again, 'that youhad fallen into some fresh trouble; the time seemed so long, at last,that I almost feared you were lost.'

'Lost!' replied Nicholas gaily. 'You will not be rid of me so easily,I promise you. I shall rise to the surface many thousand times yet,and the harder the thrust that pushes me down, the more quickly I shallrebound, Smike. But come; my errand here is to take you home.'

'Home!' faltered Smike, drawing timidly back.

'Ay,' rejoined Nicholas, taking his arm. 'Why not?'

'I had such hopes once,' said Smike; 'day and night, day and night,for many years. I longed for home till I was weary, and pined away withgrief, but now--'

'And what now?' asked Nicholas, looking kindly in his face. 'What now,old friend?'

'I could not part from you to go to any home on earth,' replied Smike,pressing his hand; 'except one, except one. I shall never be an old man;and if your hand placed me in the grave, and I could think, before Idied, that you would come and look upon it sometimes with one of yourkind smiles, and in the summer weather, when everything was alive--notdead like me--I could go to that home almost without a tear.'

'Why do you talk thus, poor boy, if your life is a happy one with me?'said Nicholas.

'Because I should change; not those about me. And if they forgot me,I should never know it,' replied Smike. 'In the churchyard we are allalike, but here there are none like me. I am a poor creature, but I knowthat.'

'You are a foolish, silly creature,' said Nicholas cheerfully. 'Ifthat is what you mean, I grant you that. Why, here's a dismal face forladies' company!--my pretty sister too, whom you have so often asked meabout. Is this your Yorkshire gallantry? For shame! for shame!'

Smike brightened up and smiled.

'When I talk of home,' pursued Nicholas, 'I talk of mine--which is yoursof course. If it were defined by any particular four walls and a roof,God knows I should be sufficiently puzzled to say whereabouts it lay;but that is not what I mean. When I speak of home, I speak of the placewhere--in default of a better--those I love are gathered together; andif that place were a gypsy's tent, or a barn, I should call it by thesame good name notwithstanding. And now, for what is my present home,which, however alarming your expectations may be, will neither terrifyyou by its extent nor its magnificence!'

So saying, Nicholas took his companion by the arm, and saying a greatdeal more to the same purpose, and pointing out various things to amuseand interest him as they went along, led the way to Miss La Creevy'shouse.

'And this, Kate,' said Nicholas, entering the room where his sister satalone, 'is the faithful friend and affectionate fellow-traveller whom Iprepared you to receive.'

Poor Smike was bashful, and awkward, and frightened enough, at first,but Kate advanced towards him so kindly, and said, in such a sweetvoice, how anxious she had been to see him after all her brotherhad told her, and how much she had to thank him for having comfortedNicholas so greatly in their very trying reverses, that he began to bevery doubtful whether he should shed tears or not, and became still moreflurried. However, he managed to say, in a broken voice, that Nicholaswas his only friend, and that he would lay down his life to help him;and Kate, although she was so kind and considerate, seemed to be sowholly unconscious of his distress and embarrassment, that he recoveredalmost immediately and felt quite at home.

Then, Miss La Creevy came in; and to her Smike had to be presented also.And Miss La Creevy was very kind too, and wonderfully talkative: not toSmike, for that would have made him uneasy at first, but to Nicholas andhis sister. Then, after a time, she would speak to Smike himself now andthen, asking him whether he was a judge of likenesses, and whether hethought that picture in the corner was like herself, and whether hedidn't think it would have looked better if she had made herself tenyears younger, and whether he didn't think, as a matter of generalobservation, that young ladies looked better not only in pictures, butout of them too, than old ones; with many more small jokes and facetiousremarks, which were delivered with such good-humour and merriment, thatSmike thought, within himself, she was the nicest lady he had ever seen;even nicer than Mrs Grudden, of Mr Vincent Crummles's theatre; and shewas a nice lady too, and talked, perhaps more, but certainly louder,than Miss La Creevy.

At length the door opened again, and a lady in mourning came in; andNicholas kissing the lady in mourning affectionately, and calling herhis mother, led her towards the chair from which Smike had risen whenshe entered the room.

'You are always kind-hearted, and anxious to help the oppressed, my dearmother,' said Nicholas, 'so you will be favourably disposed towards him,I know.'

'I am sure, my dear Nicholas,' replied Mrs Nickleby, looking very hardat her new friend, and bending to him with something more of majestythan the occasion seemed to require: 'I am sure any friend of yourshas, as indeed he naturally ought to have, and must have, of course, youknow, a great claim upon me, and of course, it is a very great pleasureto me to be introduced to anybody you take an interest in. There can beno doubt about that; none at all; not the least in the world,' said MrsNickleby. 'At the same time I must say, Nicholas, my dear, as I usedto say to your poor dear papa, when he WOULD bring gentlemen home todinner, and there was nothing in the house, that if he had come theday before yesterday--no, I don't mean the day before yesterday now;I should have said, perhaps, the year before last--we should have beenbetter able to entertain him.'

With which remarks, Mrs Nickleby turned to her daughter, and inquired,in an audible whisper, whether the gentleman was going to stop allnight.

'Because, if he is, Kate, my dear,' said Mrs Nickleby, 'I don't see thatit's possible for him to sleep anywhere, and that's the truth.'

Kate stepped gracefully forward, and without any show of annoyance orirritation, breathed a few words into her mother's ear.

'La, Kate, my dear,' said Mrs Nickleby, shrinking back, 'how you dotickle one! Of course, I understand THAT, my love, without your tellingme; and I said the same to Nicholas, and I AM very much pleased. Youdidn't tell me, Nicholas, my dear,' added Mrs Nickleby, turning roundwith an air of less reserve than she had before assumed, 'what yourfriend's name is.'

'His name, mother,' replied Nicholas, 'is Smike.'

The effect of this communication was by no means anticipated; but thename was no sooner pronounced, than Mrs Nickleby dropped upon a chair,and burst into a fit of crying.

'What is the matter?' exclaimed Nicholas, running to support her.

'It's so like Pyke,' cried Mrs Nickleby; 'so exactly like Pyke. Oh!don't speak to me--I shall be better presently.'

And after exhibiting every symptom of slow suffocation in all itsstages, and drinking about a tea-spoonful of water from a full tumbler,and spilling the remainder, Mrs Nickleby WAS better, and remarked, witha feeble smile, that she was very foolish, she knew.

'It's a weakness in our family,' said Mrs Nickleby, 'so, of course,I can't be blamed for it. Your grandmama, Kate, was exactly thesame--precisely. The least excitement, the slightest surprise--shefainted away directly. I have heard her say, often and often, that whenshe was a young lady, and before she was married, she was turninga corner into Oxford Street one day, when she ran against her ownhairdresser, who, it seems, was escaping from a bear;--the meresuddenness of the encounter made her faint away directly. Wait, though,'added Mrs Nickleby, pausing to consider. 'Let me be sure I'm right. Wasit her hairdresser who had escaped from a bear, or was it a bear who hadescaped from her hairdresser's? I declare I can't remember just now, butthe hairdresser was a very handsome man, I know, and quite a gentlemanin his manners; so that it has nothing to do with the point of thestory.'

Mrs Nickleby having fallen imperceptibly into one of her retrospectivemoods, improved in temper from that moment, and glided, by an easychange of the conversation occasionally, into various other anecdotes,no less remarkable for their strict application to the subject in hand.

'Mr Smike is from Yorkshire, Nicholas, my dear?' said Mrs Nickleby,after dinner, and when she had been silent for some time.

'Certainly, mother,' replied Nicholas. 'I see you have not forgotten hismelancholy history.'

'O dear no,' cried Mrs Nickleby. 'Ah! melancholy, indeed. You don'thappen, Mr Smike, ever to have dined with the Grimbles of Grimble Hall,somewhere in the North Riding, do you?' said the good lady, addressingherself to him. 'A very proud man, Sir Thomas Grimble, with six grown-upand most lovely daughters, and the finest park in the county.'

'My dear mother,' reasoned Nicholas, 'do you suppose that theunfortunate outcast of a Yorkshire school was likely to receive manycards of invitation from the nobility and gentry in the neighbourhood?'

'Really, my dear, I don't know why it should be so very extraordinary,'said Mrs Nickleby. 'I know that when I was at school, I always went atleast twice every half-year to the Hawkinses at Taunton Vale, and theyare much richer than the Grimbles, and connected with them in marriage;so you see it's not so very unlikely, after all.'

Having put down Nicholas in this triumphant manner, Mrs Nickleby wassuddenly seized with a forgetfulness of Smike's real name, and anirresistible tendency to call him Mr Slammons; which circumstance sheattributed to the remarkable similarity of the two names in point ofsound both beginning with an S, and moreover being spelt with an M. Butwhatever doubt there might be on this point, there was none as to hisbeing a most excellent listener; which circumstance had considerableinfluence in placing them on the very best terms, and inducing MrsNickleby to express the highest opinion of his general deportment anddisposition.

Thus, the little circle remained, on the most amicable and agreeablefooting, until the Monday morning, when Nicholas withdrew himself fromit for a short time, seriously to reflect upon the state of his affairs,and to determine, if he could, upon some course of life, which wouldenable him to support those who were so entirely dependent upon hisexertions.

Mr Crummles occurred to him more than once; but although Kate wasacquainted with the whole history of his connection with that gentleman,his mother was not; and he foresaw a thousand fretful objections, onher part, to his seeking a livelihood upon the stage. There were graverreasons, too, against his returning to that mode of life. Independentlyof those arising out of its spare and precarious earnings, and his owninternal conviction that he could never hope to aspire to any greatdistinction, even as a provincial actor, how could he carry his sisterfrom town to town, and place to place, and debar her from any otherassociates than those with whom he would be compelled, almost withoutdistinction, to mingle? 'It won't do,' said Nicholas, shaking his head;'I must try something else.'

It was much easier to make this resolution than to carry it into effect.With no greater experience of the world than he had acquired for himselfin his short trials; with a sufficient share of headlong rashness andprecipitation (qualities not altogether unnatural at his time of life);with a very slender stock of money, and a still more scanty stockof friends; what could he do? 'Egad!' said Nicholas, 'I'll try thatRegister Office again.'

He smiled at himself as he walked away with a quick step; for, aninstant before, he had been internally blaming his own precipitation.He did not laugh himself out of the intention, however, for on he went:picturing to himself, as he approached the place, all kinds of splendidpossibilities, and impossibilities too, for that matter, and thinkinghimself, perhaps with good reason, very fortunate to be endowed with sobuoyant and sanguine a temperament.

The office looked just the same as when he had left it last, and,indeed, with one or two exceptions, there seemed to be the very sameplacards in the window that he had seen before. There were the sameunimpeachable masters and mistresses in want of virtuous servants,and the same virtuous servants in want of unimpeachable masters andmistresses, and the same magnificent estates for the investment ofcapital, and the same enormous quantities of capital to be invested inestates, and, in short, the same opportunities of all sorts for peoplewho wanted to make their fortunes. And a most extraordinary proof itwas of the national prosperity, that people had not been found to availthemselves of such advantages long ago.

As Nicholas stopped to look in at the window, an old gentleman happenedto stop too; and Nicholas, carrying his eye along the window-panes fromleft to right in search of some capital-text placard which should beapplicable to his own case, caught sight of this old gentleman's figure,and instinctively withdrew his eyes from the window, to observe the samemore closely.

He was a sturdy old fellow in a broad-skirted blue coat, made prettylarge, to fit easily, and with no particular waist; his bulky legsclothed in drab breeches and high gaiters, and his head protected bya low-crowned broad-brimmed white hat, such as a wealthy grazier mightwear. He wore his coat buttoned; and his dimpled double chin restedin the folds of a white neckerchief--not one of your stiff-starchedapoplectic cravats, but a good, easy, old-fashioned white neckcloth thata man might go to bed in and be none the worse for. But what principallyattracted the attention of Nicholas was the old gentleman's eye,--neverwas such a clear, twinkling, honest, merry, happy eye, as that. Andthere he stood, looking a little upward, with one hand thrust into thebreast of his coat, and the other playing with his old-fashioned goldwatch-chain: his head thrown a little on one side, and his hat a littlemore on one side than his head, (but that was evidently accident; nothis ordinary way of wearing it,) with such a pleasant smile playingabout his mouth, and such a comical expression of mingled slyness,simplicity, kind-heartedness, and good-humour, lighting up his jollyold face, that Nicholas would have been content to have stood thereand looked at him until evening, and to have forgotten, meanwhile, thatthere was such a thing as a soured mind or a crabbed countenance to bemet with in the whole wide world.

But, even a very remote approach to this gratification was not tobe made, for although he seemed quite unconscious of having been thesubject of observation, he looked casually at Nicholas; and the latter,fearful of giving offence, resumed his scrutiny of the window instantly.

Still, the old gentleman stood there, glancing from placard to placard,and Nicholas could not forbear raising his eyes to his face again.Grafted upon the quaintness and oddity of his appearance, was somethingso indescribably engaging, and bespeaking so much worth, and there wereso many little lights hovering about the corners of his mouth and eyes,that it was not a mere amusement, but a positive pleasure and delight tolook at him.

This being the case, it is no wonder that the old man caught Nicholasin the fact, more than once. At such times, Nicholas coloured and lookedembarrassed: for the truth is, that he had begun to wonder whether thestranger could, by any possibility, be looking for a clerk or secretary;and thinking this, he felt as if the old gentleman must know it.

Long as all this takes to tell, it was not more than a couple of minutesin passing. As the stranger was moving away, Nicholas caught his eyeagain, and, in the awkwardness of the moment, stammered out an apology.

'No offence. Oh no offence!' said the old man.

This was said in such a hearty tone, and the voice was so exactly whatit should have been from such a speaker, and there was such a cordialityin the manner, that Nicholas was emboldened to speak again.

'A great many opportunities here, sir,' he said, half smiling as hemotioned towards the window.

'A great many people willing and anxious to be employed have seriouslythought so very often, I dare say,' replied the old man. 'Poor fellows,poor fellows!'

He moved away as he said this; but seeing that Nicholas was about tospeak, good-naturedly slackened his pace, as if he were unwilling tocut him short. After a little of that hesitation which may be sometimesobserved between two people in the street who have exchanged a nod,and are both uncertain whether they shall turn back and speak, or not,Nicholas found himself at the old man's side.

'You were about to speak, young gentleman; what were you going to say?'

'Merely that I almost hoped--I mean to say, thought--you had some objectin consulting those advertisements,' said Nicholas.

'Ay, ay? what object now--what object?' returned the old man, lookingslyly at Nicholas. 'Did you think I wanted a situation now--eh? Did youthink I did?'

Nicholas shook his head.

'Ha! ha!' laughed the old gentleman, rubbing his hands and wrists asif he were washing them. 'A very natural thought, at all events, afterseeing me gazing at those bills. I thought the same of you, at first;upon my word I did.'

'If you had thought so at last, too, sir, you would not have been farfrom the truth,' rejoined Nicholas.

'Eh?' cried the old man, surveying him from head to foot. 'What! Dearme! No, no. Well-behaved young gentleman reduced to such a necessity! Nono, no no.'

Nicholas bowed, and bidding him good-morning, turned upon his heel.

'Stay,' said the old man, beckoning him into a bye street, where theycould converse with less interruption. 'What d'ye mean, eh?'

'Merely that your kind face and manner--both so unlike any I have everseen--tempted me into an avowal, which, to any other stranger in thiswilderness of London, I should not have dreamt of making,' returnedNicholas.

'Wilderness! Yes, it is, it is. Good! It IS a wilderness,' said the oldman with much animation. 'It was a wilderness to me once. I came herebarefoot. I have never forgotten it. Thank God!' and he raised his hatfrom his head, and looked very grave.

'What's the matter? What is it? How did it all come about?' said the oldman, laying his hand on the shoulder of Nicholas, and walking him up thestreet. 'You're--Eh?' laying his finger on the sleeve of his black coat.'Who's it for, eh?'

'My father,' replied Nicholas.

'Ah!' said the old gentleman quickly. 'Bad thing for a young man to losehis father. Widowed mother, perhaps?'

Nicholas sighed.

'Brothers and sisters too? Eh?'

'One sister,' rejoined Nicholas.

'Poor thing, poor thing! You are a scholar too, I dare say?' said theold man, looking wistfully into the face of the young one.

'I have been tolerably well educated,' said Nicholas.

'Fine thing,' said the old gentleman, 'education a great thing: a verygreat thing! I never had any. I admire it the more in others. A veryfine thing. Yes, yes. Tell me more of your history. Let me hear it all.No impertinent curiosity--no, no, no.'

There was something so earnest and guileless in the way in whichall this was said, and such a complete disregard of all conventionalrestraints and coldnesses, that Nicholas could not resist it. Amongmen who have any sound and sterling qualities, there is nothing socontagious as pure openness of heart. Nicholas took the infectioninstantly, and ran over the main points of his little history withoutreserve: merely suppressing names, and touching as lightly as possibleupon his uncle's treatment of Kate. The old man listened with greatattention, and when he had concluded, drew his arm eagerly through hisown.

'Don't say another word. Not another word' said he. 'Come along with me.We mustn't lose a minute.'

So saying, the old gentleman dragged him back into Oxford Street, andhailing an omnibus on its way to the city, pushed Nicholas in beforehim, and followed himself.

As he appeared in a most extraordinary condition of restless excitement,and whenever Nicholas offered to speak, immediately interposed with:'Don't say another word, my dear sir, on any account--not another word,'the young man thought it better to attempt no further interruption.Into the city they journeyed accordingly, without interchanging anyconversation; and the farther they went, the more Nicholas wondered whatthe end of the adventure could possibly be.

The old gentleman got out, with great alacrity, when they reachedthe Bank, and once more taking Nicholas by the arm, hurried him alongThreadneedle Street, and through some lanes and passages on the right,until they, at length, emerged in a quiet shady little square. Into theoldest and cleanest-looking house of business in the square, he led theway. The only inscription on the door-post was 'Cheeryble, Brothers;'but from a hasty glance at the directions of some packages which werelying about, Nicholas supposed that the brothers Cheeryble were Germanmerchants.

Passing through a warehouse which presented every indication of athriving business, Mr Cheeryble (for such Nicholas supposed him tobe, from the respect which had been shown him by the warehousemenand porters whom they passed) led him into a little partitioned-offcounting-house like a large glass case, in which counting-house theresat--as free from dust and blemish as if he had been fixed into theglass case before the top was put on, and had never come out since--afat, elderly, large-faced clerk, with silver spectacles and a powderedhead.

'Is my brother in his room, Tim?' said Mr Cheeryble, with no lesskindness of manner than he had shown to Nicholas.

'Yes, he is, sir,' replied the fat clerk, turning his spectacle-glassestowards his principal, and his eyes towards Nicholas, 'but Mr Trimmersis with him.'

'Ay! And what has he come about, Tim?' said Mr Cheeryble.

'He is getting up a subscription for the widow and family of a man whowas killed in the East India Docks this morning, sir,' rejoined Tim.'Smashed, sir, by a cask of sugar.'

'He is a good creature,' said Mr Cheeryble, with great earnestness. 'Heis a kind soul. I am very much obliged to Trimmers. Trimmers is one ofthe best friends we have. He makes a thousand cases known to us that weshould never discover of ourselves. I am VERY much obliged to Trimmers.'Saying which, Mr Cheeryble rubbed his hands with infinite delight, andMr Trimmers happening to pass the door that instant, on his way out,shot out after him and caught him by the hand.

'I owe you a thousand thanks, Trimmers, ten thousand thanks. I take itvery friendly of you, very friendly indeed,' said Mr Cheeryble, dragginghim into a corner to get out of hearing. 'How many children are there,and what has my brother Ned given, Trimmers?'

'There are six children,' replied the gentleman, 'and your brother hasgiven us twenty pounds.'

'My brother Ned is a good fellow, and you're a good fellow too,Trimmers,' said the old man, shaking him by both hands with tremblingeagerness. 'Put me down for another twenty--or--stop a minute, stop aminute. We mustn't look ostentatious; put me down ten pound, and TimLinkinwater ten pound. A cheque for twenty pound for Mr Trimmers, Tim.God bless you, Trimmers--and come and dine with us some day this week;you'll always find a knife and fork, and we shall be delighted. Now, mydear sir--cheque from Mr Linkinwater, Tim. Smashed by a cask of sugar,and six poor children--oh dear, dear, dear!'

Talking on in this strain, as fast as he could, to prevent any friendlyremonstrances from the collector of the subscription on the large amountof his donation, Mr Cheeryble led Nicholas, equally astonished andaffected by what he had seen and heard in this short space, to thehalf-opened door of another room.

'Brother Ned,' said Mr Cheeryble, tapping with his knuckles, andstooping to listen, 'are you busy, my dear brother, or can you sparetime for a word or two with me?'

'Brother Charles, my dear fellow,' replied a voice from the inside, solike in its tones to that which had just spoken, that Nicholas started,and almost thought it was the same, 'don't ask me such a question, butcome in directly.'

They went in, without further parley. What was the amazement of Nicholaswhen his conductor advanced, and exchanged a warm greeting with anotherold gentleman, the very type and model of himself--the same face, thesame figure, the same coat, waistcoat, and neckcloth, the same breechesand gaiters--nay, there was the very same white hat hanging against thewall!

As they shook each other by the hand: the face of each lighted up bybeaming looks of affection, which would have been most delightful tobehold in infants, and which, in men so old, was inexpressibly touching:Nicholas could observe that the last old gentleman was something stouterthan his brother; this, and a slight additional shade of clumsiness inhis gait and stature, formed the only perceptible difference betweenthem. Nobody could have doubted their being twin brothers.

'Brother Ned,' said Nicholas's friend, closing the room-door, 'here is ayoung friend of mine whom we must assist. We must make proper inquiriesinto his statements, in justice to him as well as to ourselves, and ifthey are confirmed--as I feel assured they will be--we must assist him,we must assist him, brother Ned.'

'It is enough, my dear brother, that you say we should,' returned theother. 'When you say that, no further inquiries are needed. He SHALL beassisted. What are his necessities, and what does he require? Where isTim Linkinwater? Let us have him here.'

Both the brothers, it may be here remarked, had a very emphatic andearnest delivery; both had lost nearly the same teeth, which impartedthe same peculiarity to their speech; and both spoke as if, besidespossessing the utmost serenity of mind that the kindliest and mostunsuspecting nature could bestow, they had, in collecting the plums fromFortune's choicest pudding, retained a few for present use, and keptthem in their mouths.

'Where is Tim Linkinwater?' said brother Ned.

'Stop, stop, stop!' said brother Charles, taking the other aside. 'I'vea plan, my dear brother, I've a plan. Tim is getting old, and Tim hasbeen a faithful servant, brother Ned; and I don't think pensioning Tim'smother and sister, and buying a little tomb for the family when his poorbrother died, was a sufficient recompense for his faithful services.'

'No, no, no,' replied the other. 'Certainly not. Not half enough, nothalf.'

'If we could lighten Tim's duties,' said the old gentleman, 'and prevailupon him to go into the country, now and then, and sleep in the freshair, besides, two or three times a week (which he could, if he beganbusiness an hour later in the morning), old Tim Linkinwater would growyoung again in time; and he's three good years our senior now. Old TimLinkinwater young again! Eh, brother Ned, eh? Why, I recollect old TimLinkinwater quite a little boy, don't you? Ha, ha, ha! Poor Tim, poorTim!'

And the fine old fellows laughed pleasantly together: each with a tearof regard for old Tim Linkinwater standing in his eye.

'But hear this first--hear this first, brother Ned,' said the old man,hastily, placing two chairs, one on each side of Nicholas: 'I'll tell ityou myself, brother Ned, because the young gentleman is modest, and isa scholar, Ned, and I shouldn't feel it right that he should tell ushis story over and over again as if he was a beggar, or as if we doubtedhim. No, no no.'

'No, no, no,' returned the other, nodding his head gravely. 'Very right,my dear brother, very right.'

'He will tell me I'm wrong, if I make a mistake,' said Nicholas'sfriend. 'But whether I do or not, you'll be very much affected, brotherNed, remembering the time when we were two friendless lads, and earnedour first shilling in this great city.'

The twins pressed each other's hands in silence; and in his own homelymanner, brother Charles related the particulars he had heard fromNicholas. The conversation which ensued was a long one, and when it wasover, a secret conference of almost equal duration took place betweenbrother Ned and Tim Linkinwater in another room. It is no disparagementto Nicholas to say, that before he had been closeted with the twobrothers ten minutes, he could only wave his hand at every freshexpression of kindness and sympathy, and sob like a little child.

At length brother Ned and Tim Linkinwater came back together, when Timinstantly walked up to Nicholas and whispered in his ear in a very briefsentence (for Tim was ordinarily a man of few words), that he had takendown the address in the Strand, and would call upon him that evening,at eight. Having done which, Tim wiped his spectacles and put them on,preparatory to hearing what more the brothers Cheeryble had got to say.

'Tim,' said brother Charles, 'you understand that we have an intentionof taking this young gentleman into the counting-house?'

Brother Ned remarked that Tim was aware of that intention, and quiteapproved of it; and Tim having nodded, and said he did, drew himself upand looked particularly fat, and very important. After which, there wasa profound silence.

'I'm not coming an hour later in the morning, you know,' said Tim,breaking out all at once, and looking very resolute. 'I'm not going tosleep in the fresh air; no, nor I'm not going into the country either. Apretty thing at this time of day, certainly. Pho!'

'Damn your obstinacy, Tim Linkinwater,' said brother Charles, looking athim without the faintest spark of anger, and with a countenance radiantwith attachment to the old clerk. 'Damn your obstinacy, Tim Linkinwater,what do you mean, sir?'

'It's forty-four year,' said Tim, making a calculation in the air withhis pen, and drawing an imaginary line before he cast it up, 'forty-fouryear, next May, since I first kept the books of Cheeryble, Brothers.I've opened the safe every morning all that time (Sundays excepted) asthe clock struck nine, and gone over the house every night at half-pastten (except on Foreign Post nights, and then twenty minutes beforetwelve) to see the doors fastened, and the fires out. I've never sleptout of the back-attic one single night. There's the same mignonette boxin the middle of the window, and the same four flower-pots, two on eachside, that I brought with me when I first came. There an't--I've said itagain and again, and I'll maintain it--there an't such a square as thisin the world. I KNOW there an't,' said Tim, with sudden energy, andlooking sternly about him. 'Not one. For business or pleasure, insummer-time or winter--I don't care which--there's nothing like it.There's not such a spring in England as the pump under the archway.There's not such a view in England as the view out of my window; I'veseen it every morning before I shaved, and I ought to know somethingabout it. I have slept in that room,' added Tim, sinking his voice alittle, 'for four-and-forty year; and if it wasn't inconvenient, anddidn't interfere with business, I should request leave to die there.'

'Damn you, Tim Linkinwater, how dare you talk about dying?' roared thetwins by one impulse, and blowing their old noses violently.

'That's what I've got to say, Mr Edwin and Mr Charles,' said Tim,squaring his shoulders again. 'This isn't the first time you've talkedabout superannuating me; but, if you please, we'll make it the last, anddrop the subject for evermore.'

With these words, Tim Linkinwater stalked out, and shut himself upin his glass case, with the air of a man who had had his say, and wasthoroughly resolved not to be put down.

The brothers interchanged looks, and coughed some half-dozen timeswithout speaking.

'He must be done something with, brother Ned,' said the other, warmly;'we must disregard his old scruples; they can't be tolerated, or borne.He must be made a partner, brother Ned; and if he won't submit to itpeaceably, we must have recourse to violence.'

'Quite right,' replied brother Ned, nodding his head as a man thoroughlydetermined; 'quite right, my dear brother. If he won't listen to reason,we must do it against his will, and show him that we are determined toexert our authority. We must quarrel with him, brother Charles.'

'We must. We certainly must have a quarrel with Tim Linkinwater,' saidthe other. 'But in the meantime, my dear brother, we are keeping ouryoung friend; and the poor lady and her daughter will be anxious for hisreturn. So let us say goodbye for the present, and--there, there--takecare of that box, my dear sir--and--no, no, not a word now; but becareful of the crossings and--'

And with any disjointed and unconnected words which would preventNicholas from pouring forth his thanks, the brothers hurried himout: shaking hands with him all the way, and affecting veryunsuccessfully--they were poor hands at deception!--to be whollyunconscious of the feelings that completely mastered him.

Nicholas's heart was too full to allow of his turning into the streetuntil he had recovered some composure. When he at last glided out of thedark doorway corner in which he had been compelled to halt, he caughta glimpse of the twins stealthily peeping in at one corner of the glasscase, evidently undecided whether they should follow up their lateattack without delay, or for the present postpone laying further siegeto the inflexible Tim Linkinwater.

To recount all the delight and wonder which the circumstances justdetailed awakened at Miss La Creevy's, and all the things that weredone, said, thought, expected, hoped, and prophesied in consequence,is beside the present course and purpose of these adventures. It issufficient to state, in brief, that Mr Timothy Linkinwater arrived,punctual to his appointment; that, oddity as he was, and jealous, ashe was bound to be, of the proper exercise of his employers' mostcomprehensive liberality, he reported strongly and warmly in favour ofNicholas; and that, next day, he was appointed to the vacant stool inthe counting-house of Cheeryble, Brothers, with a present salary of onehundred and twenty pounds a year.

'And I think, my dear brother,' said Nicholas's first friend, 'thatif we were to let them that little cottage at Bow which is empty, atsomething under the usual rent, now? Eh, brother Ned?'

'For nothing at all,' said brother Ned. 'We are rich, and should beashamed to touch the rent under such circumstances as these. Where isTim Linkinwater?--for nothing at all, my dear brother, for nothing atall.'

'Perhaps it would be better to say something, brother Ned,' suggestedthe other, mildly; 'it would help to preserve habits of frugality, youknow, and remove any painful sense of overwhelming obligations. We mightsay fifteen pound, or twenty pound, and if it was punctually paid, makeit up to them in some other way. And I might secretly advance a smallloan towards a little furniture, and you might secretly advance anothersmall loan, brother Ned; and if we find them doing well--as we shall;there's no fear, no fear--we can change the loans into gifts. Carefully,brother Ned, and by degrees, and without pressing upon them too much;what do you say now, brother?'

Brother Ned gave his hand upon it, and not only said it should be done,but had it done too; and, in one short week, Nicholas took possession ofthe stool, and Mrs Nickleby and Kate took possession of the house, andall was hope, bustle, and light-heartedness.

There surely never was such a week of discoveries and surprises asthe first week of that cottage. Every night when Nicholas came home,something new had been found out. One day it was a grapevine, andanother day it was a boiler, and another day it was the key of thefront-parlour closet at the bottom of the water-butt, and so on througha hundred items. Then, this room was embellished with a muslin curtain,and that room was rendered quite elegant by a window-blind, and suchimprovements were made, as no one would have supposed possible. Thenthere was Miss La Creevy, who had come out in the omnibus to stop a dayor two and help, and who was perpetually losing a very small brown-paperparcel of tin tacks and a very large hammer, and running about withher sleeves tucked up at the wrists, and falling off pairs of steps andhurting herself very much--and Mrs Nickleby, who talked incessantly, anddid something now and then, but not often--and Kate, who busied herselfnoiselessly everywhere, and was pleased with everything--and Smike, whomade the garden a perfect wonder to look upon--and Nicholas, who helpedand encouraged them every one--all the peace and cheerfulness of homerestored, with such new zest imparted to every frugal pleasure, and suchdelight to every hour of meeting, as misfortune and separation alonecould give!

In short, the poor Nicklebys were social and happy; while the richNickleby was alone and miserable.