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Ever since her last momentous conversation with her son, Mrs Nicklebyhad begun to display unusual care in the adornment of her person,gradually superadding to those staid and matronly habiliments,which had, up to that time, formed her ordinary attire, a variety ofembellishments and decorations, slight perhaps in themselves, but,taken together, and considered with reference to the subject ofher disclosure, of no mean importance. Even her black dress assumedsomething of a deadly-lively air from the jaunty style in which it wasworn; and, eked out as its lingering attractions were; by a prudentdisposal, here and there, of certain juvenile ornaments of little or novalue, which had, for that reason alone, escaped the general wreck andbeen permitted to slumber peacefully in odd corners of old drawers andboxes where daylight seldom shone, her mourning garments assumed quitea new character. From being the outward tokens of respect and sorrow forthe dead, they became converted into signals of very slaughterous andkilling designs upon the living.

Mrs Nickleby might have been stimulated to this proceeding by a loftysense of duty, and impulses of unquestionable excellence. She might, bythis time, have become impressed with the sinfulness of long indulgencein unavailing woe, or the necessity of setting a proper example ofneatness and decorum to her blooming daughter. Considerations of dutyand responsibility apart, the change might have taken its rise infeelings of the purest and most disinterested charity. The gentlemannext door had been vilified by Nicholas; rudely stigmatised as a dotardand an idiot; and for these attacks upon his understanding, Mrs Nicklebywas, in some sort, accountable. She might have felt that it was the actof a good Christian to show by all means in her power, that the abusedgentleman was neither the one nor the other. And what better means couldshe adopt, towards so virtuous and laudable an end, than proving toall men, in her own person, that his passion was the most rational andreasonable in the world, and just the very result, of all others, whichdiscreet and thinking persons might have foreseen, from her incautiouslydisplaying her matured charms, without reserve, under the very eye, asit were, of an ardent and too-susceptible man?

'Ah!' said Mrs Nickleby, gravely shaking her head; 'if Nicholas knewwhat his poor dear papa suffered before we were engaged, when I used tohate him, he would have a little more feeling. Shall I ever forget themorning I looked scornfully at him when he offered to carry my parasol?Or that night, when I frowned at him? It was a mercy he didn't emigrate.It very nearly drove him to it.'

Whether the deceased might not have been better off if he had emigratedin his bachelor days, was a question which his relict did not stop toconsider; for Kate entered the room, with her workbox, in this stage ofher reflections; and a much slighter interruption, or no interruption atall, would have diverted Mrs Nickleby's thoughts into a new channel atany time.

'Kate, my dear,' said Mrs Nickleby; 'I don't know how it is, but a finewarm summer day like this, with the birds singing in every direction,always puts me in mind of roast pig, with sage and onion sauce, and madegravy.'

'That's a curious association of ideas, is it not, mama?'

'Upon my word, my dear, I don't know,' replied Mrs Nickleby. 'Roast pig;let me see. On the day five weeks after you were christened, we had aroast--no, that couldn't have been a pig, either, because I recollectthere were a pair of them to carve, and your poor papa and I couldnever have thought of sitting down to two pigs--they must have beenpartridges. Roast pig! I hardly think we ever could have had one, nowI come to remember, for your papa could never bear the sight of themin the shops, and used to say that they always put him in mind of verylittle babies, only the pigs had much fairer complexions; and he had ahorror of little babies, too, because he couldn't very well afford anyincrease to his family, and had a natural dislike to the subject. It'svery odd now, what can have put that in my head! I recollect diningonce at Mrs Bevan's, in that broad street round the corner by thecoachmaker's, where the tipsy man fell through the cellar-flap of anempty house nearly a week before the quarter-day, and wasn't found tillthe new tenant went in--and we had roast pig there. It must be that, Ithink, that reminds me of it, especially as there was a little bird inthe room that would keep on singing all the time of dinner--at least,not a little bird, for it was a parrot, and he didn't sing exactly, forhe talked and swore dreadfully: but I think it must be that. Indeed I amsure it must. Shouldn't you say so, my dear?'

'I should say there was not a doubt about it, mama,' returned Kate, witha cheerful smile.

'No; but DO you think so, Kate?' said Mrs Nickleby, with as much gravityas if it were a question of the most imminent and thrilling interest.'If you don't, say so at once, you know; because it's just as well to becorrect, particularly on a point of this kind, which is very curious andworth settling while one thinks about it.'

Kate laughingly replied that she was quite convinced; and as her mamastill appeared undetermined whether it was not absolutely essential thatthe subject should be renewed, proposed that they should take theirwork into the summer-house, and enjoy the beauty of the afternoon.Mrs Nickleby readily assented, and to the summer-house they repaired,without further discussion.

'Well, I will say,' observed Mrs Nickleby, as she took her seat, 'thatthere never was such a good creature as Smike. Upon my word, the painshe has taken in putting this little arbour to rights, and training thesweetest flowers about it, are beyond anything I could have--I wish hewouldn't put ALL the gravel on your side, Kate, my dear, though, andleave nothing but mould for me.'

'Dear mama,' returned Kate, hastily, 'take this seat--do--to oblige me,mama.'

'No, indeed, my dear. I shall keep my own side,' said Mrs Nickleby.'Well! I declare!'

Kate looked up inquiringly.

'If he hasn't been,' said Mrs Nickleby, 'and got, from somewhere orother, a couple of roots of those flowers that I said I was so fond of,the other night, and asked you if you were not--no, that YOU said YOUwere so fond of, the other night, and asked me if I wasn't--it's thesame thing. Now, upon my word, I take that as very kind and attentiveindeed! I don't see,' added Mrs Nickleby, looking narrowly about her,'any of them on my side, but I suppose they grow best near the gravel.You may depend upon it they do, Kate, and that's the reason they are allnear you, and he has put the gravel there, because it's the sunny side.Upon my word, that's very clever now! I shouldn't have had half as muchthought myself!'

'Mama,' said Kate, bending over her work so that her face was almosthidden, 'before you were married--'

'Dear me, Kate,' interrupted Mrs Nickleby, 'what in the name of goodnessgraciousness makes you fly off to the time before I was married, whenI'm talking to you about his thoughtfulness and attention to me? Youdon't seem to take the smallest interest in the garden.'

'Oh! mama,' said Kate, raising her face again, 'you know I do.'

'Well then, my dear, why don't you praise the neatness and prettinesswith which it's kept?' said Mrs Nickleby. 'How very odd you are, Kate!'

'I do praise it, mama,' answered Kate, gently. 'Poor fellow!'

'I scarcely ever hear you, my dear,' retorted Mrs Nickleby; 'that's allI've got to say.' By this time the good lady had been a long while uponone topic, so she fell at once into her daughter's little trap, if trapit were, and inquired what she had been going to say.

'About what, mama?' said Kate, who had apparently quite forgotten herdiversion.

'Lor, Kate, my dear,' returned her mother, 'why, you're asleep orstupid! About the time before I was married.'

'Oh yes!' said Kate, 'I remember. I was going to ask, mama, before youwere married, had you many suitors?'

'Suitors, my dear!' cried Mrs Nickleby, with a smile of wonderfulcomplacency. 'First and last, Kate, I must have had a dozen at least.'

'Mama!' returned Kate, in a tone of remonstrance.

'I had indeed, my dear,' said Mrs Nickleby; 'not including your poorpapa, or a young gentleman who used to go, at that time, to the samedancing school, and who WOULD send gold watches and bracelets toour house in gilt-edged paper, (which were always returned,) and whoafterwards unfortunately went out to Botany Bay in a cadet ship--aconvict ship I mean--and escaped into a bush and killed sheep, (I don'tknow how they got there,) and was going to be hung, only he accidentallychoked himself, and the government pardoned him. Then there was youngLukin,' said Mrs Nickleby, beginning with her left thumb and checkingoff the names on her fingers--'Mogley--Tipslark--Cabbery--Smifser--'

Having now reached her little finger, Mrs Nickleby was carrying theaccount over to the other hand, when a loud 'Hem!' which appeared tocome from the very foundation of the garden-wall, gave both herself andher daughter a violent start.

'Mama! what was that?' said Kate, in a low tone of voice.

'Upon my word, my dear,' returned Mrs Nickleby, considerably startled,'unless it was the gentleman belonging to the next house, I don't knowwhat it could possibly--'

'A--hem!' cried the same voice; and that, not in the tone of an ordinaryclearing of the throat, but in a kind of bellow, which woke up all theechoes in the neighbourhood, and was prolonged to an extent which musthave made the unseen bellower quite black in the face.

'I understand it now, my dear,' said Mrs Nickleby, laying her hand onKate's; 'don't be alarmed, my love, it's not directed to you, and is notintended to frighten anybody. Let us give everybody their due, Kate; Iam bound to say that.'

So saying, Mrs Nickleby nodded her head, and patted the back of herdaughter's hand, a great many times, and looked as if she could tellsomething vastly important if she chose, but had self-denial, thankHeaven; and wouldn't do it.

'What do you mean, mama?' demanded Kate, in evident surprise.

'Don't be flurried, my dear,' replied Mrs Nickleby, looking towardsthe garden-wall, 'for you see I'm not, and if it would be excusablein anybody to be flurried, it certainly would--under all thecircumstances--be excusable in me, but I am not, Kate--not at all.'

'It seems designed to attract our attention, mama,' said Kate.

'It is designed to attract our attention, my dear; at least,' rejoinedMrs Nickleby, drawing herself up, and patting her daughter's hand moreblandly than before, 'to attract the attention of one of us. Hem! youneedn't be at all uneasy, my dear.'

Kate looked very much perplexed, and was apparently about to ask forfurther explanation, when a shouting and scuffling noise, as of anelderly gentleman whooping, and kicking up his legs on loose gravel,with great violence, was heard to proceed from the same direction as theformer sounds; and before they had subsided, a large cucumber was seento shoot up in the air with the velocity of a sky-rocket, whence itdescended, tumbling over and over, until it fell at Mrs Nickleby's feet.

This remarkable appearance was succeeded by another of a preciselysimilar description; then a fine vegetable marrow, of unusually largedimensions, was seen to whirl aloft, and come toppling down; then,several cucumbers shot up together; and, finally, the air was darkenedby a shower of onions, turnip-radishes, and other small vegetables,which fell rolling and scattering, and bumping about, in all directions.

As Kate rose from her seat, in some alarm, and caught her mother's handto run with her into the house, she felt herself rather retarded thanassisted in her intention; and following the direction of Mrs Nickleby'seyes, was quite terrified by the apparition of an old black velvet cap,which, by slow degrees, as if its wearer were ascending a ladder or pairof steps, rose above the wall dividing their garden from that of thenext cottage, (which, like their own, was a detached building,) and wasgradually followed by a very large head, and an old face, in which werea pair of most extraordinary grey eyes: very wild, very wide open, androlling in their sockets, with a dull, languishing, leering look, mostugly to behold.

'Mama!' cried Kate, really terrified for the moment, 'why do you stop,why do you lose an instant? Mama, pray come in!'

'Kate, my dear,' returned her mother, still holding back, 'how can yoube so foolish? I'm ashamed of you. How do you suppose you are ever toget through life, if you're such a coward as this? What do you want,sir?' said Mrs Nickleby, addressing the intruder with a sort ofsimpering displeasure. 'How dare you look into this garden?'

'Queen of my soul,' replied the stranger, folding his hands together,'this goblet sip!'

'Nonsense, sir,' said Mrs Nickleby. 'Kate, my love, pray be quiet.'

'Won't you sip the goblet?' urged the stranger, with his headimploringly on one side, and his right hand on his breast. 'Oh, do sipthe goblet!'

'I shall not consent to do anything of the kind, sir,' said MrsNickleby. 'Pray, begone.'

'Why is it,' said the old gentleman, coming up a step higher, andleaning his elbows on the wall, with as much complacency as if he werelooking out of window, 'why is it that beauty is always obdurate,even when admiration is as honourable and respectful as mine?' Here hesmiled, kissed his hand, and made several low bows. 'Is it owing to thebees, who, when the honey season is over, and they are supposed tohave been killed with brimstone, in reality fly to Barbary and lull thecaptive Moors to sleep with their drowsy songs? Or is it,' he added,dropping his voice almost to a whisper, 'in consequence of the statueat Charing Cross having been lately seen, on the Stock Exchangeat midnight, walking arm-in-arm with the Pump from Aldgate, in ariding-habit?'

'Mama,' murmured Kate, 'do you hear him?'

'Hush, my dear!' replied Mrs Nickleby, in the same tone of voice, 'heis very polite, and I think that was a quotation from the poets. Pray,don't worry me so--you'll pinch my arm black and blue. Go away, sir!'

'Quite away?' said the gentleman, with a languishing look. 'Oh! quiteaway?'

'Yes,' returned Mrs Nickleby, 'certainly. You have no business here.This is private property, sir; you ought to know that.'

'I do know,' said the old gentleman, laying his finger on his nose, withan air of familiarity, most reprehensible, 'that this is a sacred andenchanted spot, where the most divine charms'--here he kissed his handand bowed again--'waft mellifluousness over the neighbours' gardens, andforce the fruit and vegetables into premature existence. That fact I amacquainted with. But will you permit me, fairest creature, to askyou one question, in the absence of the planet Venus, who has goneon business to the Horse Guards, and would otherwise--jealous of yoursuperior charms--interpose between us?'

'Kate,' observed Mrs Nickleby, turning to her daughter, 'it's veryawkward, positively. I really don't know what to say to this gentleman.One ought to be civil, you know.'

'Dear mama,' rejoined Kate, 'don't say a word to him, but let us runaway as fast as we can, and shut ourselves up till Nicholas comes home.'

Mrs Nickleby looked very grand, not to say contemptuous, at thishumiliating proposal; and, turning to the old gentleman, who had watchedthem during these whispers with absorbing eagerness, said:

'If you will conduct yourself, sir, like the gentleman I shouldimagine you to be, from your language and--and--appearance, (quite thecounterpart of your grandpapa, Kate, my dear, in his best days,) andwill put your question to me in plain words, I will answer it.'

If Mrs Nickleby's excellent papa had borne, in his best days, aresemblance to the neighbour now looking over the wall, he must havebeen, to say the least, a very queer-looking old gentleman in hisprime. Perhaps Kate thought so, for she ventured to glance at his livingportrait with some attention, as he took off his black velvet cap,and, exhibiting a perfectly bald head, made a long series of bows, eachaccompanied with a fresh kiss of the hand. After exhausting himself,to all appearance, with this fatiguing performance, he covered his headonce more, pulled the cap very carefully over the tips of his ears, andresuming his former attitude, said,

'The question is--'

Here he broke off to look round in every direction, and satisfy himselfbeyond all doubt that there were no listeners near. Assured that therewere not, he tapped his nose several times, accompanying the action witha cunning look, as though congratulating himself on his caution; andstretching out his neck, said in a loud whisper,

'Are you a princess?'

'You are mocking me, sir,' replied Mrs Nickleby, making a feint ofretreating towards the house.

'No, but are you?' said the old gentleman.

'You know I am not, sir,' replied Mrs Nickleby.

'Then are you any relation to the Archbishop of Canterbury?' inquiredthe old gentleman with great anxiety, 'or to the Pope of Rome? Or theSpeaker of the House of Commons? Forgive me, if I am wrong, but I wastold you were niece to the Commissioners of Paving, and daughter-in-lawto the Lord Mayor and Court of Common Council, which would account foryour relationship to all three.'

'Whoever has spread such reports, sir,' returned Mrs Nickleby, with somewarmth, 'has taken great liberties with my name, and one which I am suremy son Nicholas, if he was aware of it, would not allow for an instant.The idea!' said Mrs Nickleby, drawing herself up, 'niece to theCommissioners of Paving!'

'Pray, mama, come away!' whispered Kate.

'"Pray mama!" Nonsense, Kate,' said Mrs Nickleby, angrily, 'but that'sjust the way. If they had said I was niece to a piping bullfinch, whatwould you care? But I have no sympathy,' whimpered Mrs Nickleby. 'Idon't expect it, that's one thing.'

'Tears!' cried the old gentleman, with such an energetic jump, thathe fell down two or three steps and grated his chin against thewall. 'Catch the crystal globules--catch 'em--bottle 'em up--cork 'emtight--put sealing wax on the top--seal 'em with a cupid--label 'em"Best quality"--and stow 'em away in the fourteen binn, with a bar ofiron on the top to keep the thunder off!'

Issuing these commands, as if there were a dozen attendants all activelyengaged in their execution, he turned his velvet cap inside out, put iton with great dignity so as to obscure his right eye and three-fourthsof his nose, and sticking his arms a-kimbo, looked very fiercely at asparrow hard by, till the bird flew away, when he put his cap in hispocket with an air of great satisfaction, and addressed himself withrespectful demeanour to Mrs Nickleby.

'Beautiful madam,' such were his words, 'if I have made any mistake withregard to your family or connections, I humbly beseech you to pardon me.If I supposed you to be related to Foreign Powers or Native Boards,it is because you have a manner, a carriage, a dignity, which you willexcuse my saying that none but yourself (with the single exceptionperhaps of the tragic muse, when playing extemporaneously on the barrelorgan before the East India Company) can parallel. I am not a youth,ma'am, as you see; and although beings like you can never grow old, Iventure to presume that we are fitted for each other.'

'Really, Kate, my love!' said Mrs Nickleby faintly, and looking anotherway.

'I have estates, ma'am,' said the old gentleman, flourishing his righthand negligently, as if he made very light of such matters, and speakingvery fast; 'jewels, lighthouses, fish-ponds, a whalery of my own in theNorth Sea, and several oyster-beds of great profit in the Pacific Ocean.If you will have the kindness to step down to the Royal Exchange andto take the cocked-hat off the stoutest beadle's head, you will find mycard in the lining of the crown, wrapped up in a piece of blue paper. Mywalking-stick is also to be seen on application to the chaplain ofthe House of Commons, who is strictly forbidden to take any money forshowing it. I have enemies about me, ma'am,' he looked towards his houseand spoke very low, 'who attack me on all occasions, and wish to securemy property. If you bless me with your hand and heart, you can apply tothe Lord Chancellor or call out the military if necessary--sending mytoothpick to the commander-in-chief will be sufficient--and so clear thehouse of them before the ceremony is performed. After that, love, blissand rapture; rapture, love and bliss. Be mine, be mine!'

Repeating these last words with great rapture and enthusiasm, the oldgentleman put on his black velvet cap again, and looking up into thesky in a hasty manner, said something that was not quite intelligibleconcerning a balloon he expected, and which was rather after its time.

'Be mine, be mine!' repeated the old gentleman.

'Kate, my dear,' said Mrs Nickleby, 'I have hardly the power to speak;but it is necessary for the happiness of all parties that this mattershould be set at rest for ever.'

'Surely there is no necessity for you to say one word, mama?' reasonedKate.

'You will allow me, my dear, if you please, to judge for myself,' saidMrs Nickleby.

'Be mine, be mine!' cried the old gentleman.

'It can scarcely be expected, sir,' said Mrs Nickleby, fixing her eyesmodestly on the ground, 'that I should tell a stranger whether I feelflattered and obliged by such proposals, or not. They certainly are madeunder very singular circumstances; still at the same time, as far asit goes, and to a certain extent of course' (Mrs Nickleby's customaryqualification), 'they must be gratifying and agreeable to one'sfeelings.'

'Be mine, be mine,' cried the old gentleman. 'Gog and Magog, Gog andMagog. Be mine, be mine!'

'It will be sufficient for me to say, sir,' resumed Mrs Nickleby, withperfect seriousness--'and I'm sure you'll see the propriety of takingan answer and going away--that I have made up my mind to remain a widow,and to devote myself to my children. You may not suppose I am the motherof two children--indeed many people have doubted it, and said thatnothing on earth could ever make 'em believe it possible--but it is thecase, and they are both grown up. We shall be very glad to have you fora neighbour--very glad; delighted, I'm sure--but in any other characterit's quite impossible, quite. As to my being young enough to marryagain, that perhaps may be so, or it may not be; but I couldn't thinkof it for an instant, not on any account whatever. I said I never would,and I never will. It's a very painful thing to have to reject proposals,and I would much rather that none were made; at the same time this isthe answer that I determined long ago to make, and this is the answer Ishall always give.'

These observations were partly addressed to the old gentleman, partly toKate, and partly delivered in soliloquy. Towards their conclusion, thesuitor evinced a very irreverent degree of inattention, and Mrs Nicklebyhad scarcely finished speaking, when, to the great terror both of thatlady and her daughter, he suddenly flung off his coat, and springing onthe top of the wall, threw himself into an attitude which displayed hissmall-clothes and grey worsteds to the fullest advantage, and concludedby standing on one leg, and repeating his favourite bellow withincreased vehemence.

While he was still dwelling on the last note, and embellishing it witha prolonged flourish, a dirty hand was observed to glide stealthily andswiftly along the top of the wall, as if in pursuit of a fly, and thento clasp with the utmost dexterity one of the old gentleman's ankles.This done, the companion hand appeared, and clasped the other ankle.

Thus encumbered the old gentleman lifted his legs awkwardly once ortwice, as if they were very clumsy and imperfect pieces of machinery,and then looking down on his own side of the wall, burst into a loudlaugh.

'It's you, is it?' said the old gentleman.

'Yes, it's me,' replied a gruff voice.

'How's the Emperor of Tartary?' said the old gentleman.

'Oh! he's much the same as usual,' was the reply. 'No better and noworse.'

'The young Prince of China,' said the old gentleman, with much interest.'Is he reconciled to his father-in-law, the great potato salesman?'

'No,' answered the gruff voice; 'and he says he never will be, that'smore.'

'If that's the case,' observed the old gentleman, 'perhaps I'd bettercome down.'

'Well,' said the man on the other side, 'I think you had, perhaps.'

One of the hands being then cautiously unclasped, the old gentlemandropped into a sitting posture, and was looking round to smile and bowto Mrs Nickleby, when he disappeared with some precipitation, as if hislegs had been pulled from below.

Very much relieved by his disappearance, Kate was turning to speakto her mama, when the dirty hands again became visible, and wereimmediately followed by the figure of a coarse squat man, who ascendedby the steps which had been recently occupied by their singularneighbour.

'Beg your pardon, ladies,' said this new comer, grinning and touchinghis hat. 'Has he been making love to either of you?'

'Yes,' said Kate.

'Ah!' rejoined the man, taking his handkerchief out of his hat andwiping his face, 'he always will, you know. Nothing will prevent hismaking love.'

'I need not ask you if he is out of his mind, poor creature,' said Kate.

'Why no,' replied the man, looking into his hat, throwing hishandkerchief in at one dab, and putting it on again. 'That's prettyplain, that is.'

'Has he been long so?' asked Kate.

'A long while.'

'And is there no hope for him?' said Kate, compassionately

'Not a bit, and don't deserve to be,' replied the keeper. 'He's a dealpleasanter without his senses than with 'em. He was the cruellest,wickedest, out-and-outerest old flint that ever drawed breath.'

'Indeed!' said Kate.

'By George!' replied the keeper, shaking his head so emphatically thathe was obliged to frown to keep his hat on. 'I never come across such avagabond, and my mate says the same. Broke his poor wife's heart, turnedhis daughters out of doors, drove his sons into the streets; it was ablessing he went mad at last, through evil tempers, and covetousness,and selfishness, and guzzling, and drinking, or he'd have drove manyothers so. Hope for HIM, an old rip! There isn't too much hope going,but I'll bet a crown that what there is, is saved for more deservingchaps than him, anyhow.'

With which confession of his faith, the keeper shook his head again, asmuch as to say that nothing short of this would do, if things were togo on at all; and touching his hat sulkily--not that he was in an illhumour, but that his subject ruffled him--descended the ladder, and tookit away.

During this conversation, Mrs Nickleby had regarded the man with asevere and steadfast look. She now heaved a profound sigh, and pursingup her lips, shook her head in a slow and doubtful manner.

'Poor creature!' said Kate.

'Ah! poor indeed!' rejoined Mrs Nickleby. 'It's shameful that suchthings should be allowed. Shameful!'

'How can they be helped, mama?' said Kate, mournfully. 'The infirmitiesof nature--'

'Nature!' said Mrs Nickleby. 'What! Do YOU suppose this poor gentlemanis out of his mind?'

'Can anybody who sees him entertain any other opinion, mama?'

'Why then, I just tell you this, Kate,' returned Mrs Nickleby, 'that, heis nothing of the kind, and I am surprised you can be so imposedupon. It's some plot of these people to possess themselves of hisproperty--didn't he say so himself? He may be a little odd and flighty,perhaps, many of us are that; but downright mad! and express himself ashe does, respectfully, and in quite poetical language, and making offerswith so much thought, and care, and prudence--not as if he ran into thestreets, and went down upon his knees to the first chit of a girl hemet, as a madman would! No, no, Kate, there's a great deal too muchmethod in HIS madness; depend upon that, my dear.'