Newman Noggs inducts Mrs and Miss Nickleby intotheir New Dwelling in the City.

　　Miss Nickleby’s reflections, as she wended her wayhomewards, were of that desponding nature which theoccurrences of the morning had been sufficientlycalculated to awaken. Her uncle’s was not a manner likely todispel any doubts or apprehensions she might have formed, in theoutset, neither was the glimpse she had had of MadameMantalini’s establishment by any means encouraging. It was withmany gloomy forebodings and misgivings, therefore, that shelooked forward, with a heavy heart, to the opening of her newcareer.

　　If her mother’s consolations could have restored her to apleasanter and more enviable state of mind, there were abundanceof them to produce the effect. By the time Kate reached home, thegood lady had called to mind two authentic cases of milliners whohad been possessed of considerable property, though whetherthey had acquired it all in business, or had had a capital to startwith, or had been lucky and married to advantage, she could notexactly remember. However, as she very logically remarked, theremust have been some young person in that way of business whohad made a fortune without having anything to begin with, andthat being taken for granted, why should not Kate do the same?

　　Miss La Creevy, who was a member of the little council, venturedto insinuate some doubts relative to the probability of Miss Nickleby’s arriving at this happy consummation in the compass ofan ordinary lifetime; but the good lady set that question entirely atrest, by informing them that she had a presentiment on thesubject—a species of second-sight with which she had been in thehabit of clenching every argument with the deceased Mr Nickleby,and, in nine cases and three-quarters out of every ten,determining it the wrong way.

　　‘I am afraid it is an unhealthy occupation,’ said Miss La Creevy.

　　‘I recollect getting three young milliners to sit to me, when I firstbegan to paint, and I remember that they were all very pale andsickly.’

　　‘Oh! that’s not a general rule by any means,’ observed MrsNickleby; ‘for I remember, as well as if it was only yesterday,employing one that I was particularly recommended to, to makeme a scarlet cloak at the time when scarlet cloaks werefashionable, and she had a very red face—a very red face, indeed.’

　　‘Perhaps she drank,’ suggested Miss La Creevy.

　　‘I don’t know how that may have been,’ returned Mrs Nickleby:

　　‘but I know she had a very red face, so your argument goes fornothing.’

　　In this manner, and with like powerful reasoning, did theworthy matron meet every little objection that presented itself tothe new scheme of the morning. Happy Mrs Nickleby! A projecthad but to be new, and it came home to her mind, brightlyvarnished and gilded as a glittering toy.

　　This question disposed of, Kate communicated her uncle’sdesire about the empty house, to which Mrs Nickleby assentedwith equal readiness, characteristically remarking, that, on thefine evenings, it would be a pleasant amusement for her to walk to the West end to fetch her daughter home; and no lesscharacteristically forgetting, that there were such things as wetnights and bad weather to be encountered in almost every week ofthe year.

　　‘I shall be sorry—truly sorry to leave you, my kind friend,’ saidKate, on whom the good feeling of the poor miniature painter hadmade a deep impression.

　　‘You shall not shake me off, for all that,’ replied Miss La Creevy,with as much sprightliness as she could assume. ‘I shall see youvery often, and come and hear how you get on; and if, in allLondon, or all the wide world besides, there is no other heart thattakes an interest in your welfare, there will be one little lonelywoman that prays for it night and day.’

　　With this, the poor soul, who had a heart big enough for Gog,the guardian genius of London, and enough to spare for Magog toboot, after making a great many extraordinary faces which wouldhave secured her an ample fortune, could she have transferredthem to ivory or canvas, sat down in a corner, and had what shetermed ‘a real good cry.’

　　But no crying, or talking, or hoping, or fearing, could keep offthe dreaded Saturday afternoon, or Newman Noggs either; who,punctual to his time, limped up to the door, and breathed a whiffof cordial gin through the keyhole, exactly as such of the churchclocks in the neighbourhood as agreed among themselves aboutthe time, struck five. Newman waited for the last stroke, and thenknocked.

　　‘From Mr Ralph Nickleby,’ said Newman, announcing hiserrand, when he got upstairs, with all possible brevity.

　　‘We shall be ready directly,’ said Kate. ‘We have not much to carry, but I fear we must have a coach.’

　　‘I’ll get one,’ replied Newman.

　　‘Indeed you shall not trouble yourself,’ said Mrs Nickleby.

　　‘I will,’ said Newman.

　　‘I can’t suffer you to think of such a thing,’ said Mrs Nickleby.

　　‘You can’t help it,’ said Newman.

　　‘Not help it!’

　　‘No; I thought of it as I came along; but didn’t get one, thinkingyou mightn’t be ready. I think of a great many things. Nobody canprevent that.’

　　‘Oh yes, I understand you, Mr Noggs,’ said Mrs Nickleby. ‘Ourthoughts are free, of course. Everybody’s thoughts are their own,clearly.’

　　‘They wouldn’t be, if some people had their way,’ mutteredNewman.

　　‘Well, no more they would, Mr Noggs, and that’s very true,’

　　rejoined Mrs Nickleby. ‘Some people to be sure are such—how’syour master?’

　　Newman darted a meaning glance at Kate, and replied with astrong emphasis on the last word of his answer, that Mr RalphNickleby was well, and sent his love.

　　‘I am sure we are very much obliged to him,’ observed MrsNickleby.

　　‘Very,’ said Newman. ‘I’ll tell him so.’

　　It was no very easy matter to mistake Newman Noggs, afterhaving once seen him............