Miss Knag, after doting on Kate Nickleby for threewhole Days, makes up her Mind to hate her forevermore. The Causes which led Miss Knag to formthis Resolution.

　　There are many lives of much pain, hardship, and suffering,which, having no stirring interest for any but those wholead them, are disregarded by persons who do not wantthought or feeling, but who pamper their compassion and needhigh stimulants to rouse it.

　　There are not a few among the disciples of charity who require,in their vocation, scarcely less excitement than the votaries ofpleasure in theirs; and hence it is that diseased sympathy andcompassion are every day expended on out-of-the-way objects,when only too many demands upon the legitimate exercise of thesame virtues in a healthy state, are constantly within the sight andhearing of the most unobservant person alive. In short, charitymust have its romance, as the novelist or playwright must havehis. A thief in fustian is a vulgar character, scarcely to be thoughtof by persons of refinement; but dress him in green velvet, with ahigh-crowned hat, and change the scene of his operations, from athickly-peopled city, to a mountain road, and you shall find in himthe very soul of poetry and adventure. So it is with the one greatcardinal virtue, which, properly nourished and exercised, leads to,if it does not necessarily include, all the others. It must have itsromance; and the less of real, hard, struggling work-a-day life there is in that romance, the better.

　　The life to which poor Kate Nickleby was devoted, inconsequence of the unforeseen train of circumstances alreadydeveloped in this narrative, was a hard one; but lest the verydulness, unhealthy confinement, and bodily fatigue, which madeup its sum and substance, should deprive it of any interest withthe mass of the charitable and sympathetic, I would rather keepMiss Nickleby herself in view just now, than chill them in theoutset, by a minute and lengthened description of theestablishment presided over by Madame Mantalini.

　　‘Well, now, indeed, Madame Mantalini,’ said Miss Knag, as Katewas taking her weary way homewards on the first night of hernovitiate; ‘that Miss Nickleby is a very creditable young person—avery creditable young person indeed—hem—upon my word,Madame Mantalini, it does very extraordinary credit even to yourdiscrimination that you should have found such a very excellent,very well-behaved, very—hem—very unassuming young woman toassist in the fitting on. I have seen some young women when theyhad the opportunity of displaying before their betters, behave insuch a—oh, dear—well—but you’re always right, MadameMantalini, always; and as I very often tell the young ladies, howyou do contrive to be always right, when so many people are sooften wrong, is to me a mystery indeed.’

　　‘Beyond putting a very excellent client out of humour, MissNickleby has not done anything very remarkable today—that I amaware of, at least,’ said Madame Mantalini in reply.

　　‘Oh, dear!’ said Miss Knag; ‘but you must allow a great deal forinexperience, you know.’

　　‘And youth?’ inquired Madame.

　　 ‘Oh, I say nothing about that, Madame Mantalini,’ replied MissKnag, reddening; ‘because if youth were any excuse, you wouldn’thave—’

　　‘Quite so good a forewoman as I have, I suppose,’ suggestedMadame.

　　‘Well, I never did know anybody like you, Madame Mantalini,’

　　rejoined Miss Knag most complacently, ‘and that’s the fact, for youknow what one’s going to say, before it has time to rise to one’slips. Oh, very good! Ha, ha, ha!’

　　‘For myself,’ observed Madame Mantalini, glancing withaffected carelessness at her assistant, and laughing heartily in hersleeve, ‘I consider Miss Nickleby the most awkward girl I ever sawin my life.’

　　‘Poor dear thing,’ said Miss Knag, ‘it’s not her fault. If it was, wemight hope to cure it; but as it’s her misfortune, MadameMantalini, why really you know, as the man said about the blindhorse, we ought to respect it.’

　　‘Her uncle told me she had been considered pretty,’ remarkedMadame Mantalini. ‘I think her one of the most ordinary girls Iever met with.’

　　‘Ordinary!’ cried Miss Knag with a countenance beamingdelight; ‘and awkward! Well, all I can say is, Madame Mantalini,that I quite love the poor girl; and that if she was twice asindifferent-looking, and twice as awkward as she is, I should beonly so much the more her friend, and that’s the truth of it.’

　　In fact, Miss Knag had conceived an incipient affection for KateNickleby, after witnessing her failure that morning, and this shortconversation with her superior increased the favourableprepossession to a most surprising extent; which was the more remarkable, as when she first scanned that young lady’s face andfigure, she had entertained certain inward misgivings that theywould never agree.

　　‘But now,’ said Miss Knag, glancing at the reflection of herselfin a mirror at no great distance, ‘I love her—I quite love her—Ideclare I do!’

　　Of such a highly disinterested quality was this devotedfriendship, and so superior was it to the little weaknesses offlattery or ill-nature, that the kind-hearted Miss Knag candidlyinformed Kate Nickleby, next day, that she saw she would neverdo for the business, but that she need not give herself the slightestuneasiness on this account, for that she (Miss Knag), by increasedexertions on her own part, would keep her as much as possible inthe background, and that all she would have to do, would be toremain perfectly quiet before company, and to shrink fromattracting notice by every means in her power. This lastsuggestion was so much in accordance with the timid girl’s ownfeelings and wishes, that she readily promised implicit reliance onthe excellent spinster’s advice: without questioning, or indeedbestowing a moment’s reflection upon, the motives that dictated it.

　　‘I take quite a lively interest in you, my dear soul, upon myword,’ said Miss Knag; ‘a sister’s interest, actually. It’s the mostsingular circumstance I ever knew.’

　　Undoubtedly it was singular, that if Miss Knag did feel a stronginterest in Kate Nickleby, it should not rather have been theinterest of a maiden aunt or grandmother; that being theconclusion to which the difference in their respective ages wouldhave naturally tended. But Miss Knag wore clothes of a veryyouthful pattern, and perhaps her feelings took the same shape.

　　 ‘Bless you!’ said Miss Knag, bestowing a kiss upon Kate at theconclusion of the second day’s work, ‘how very awkward you havebeen all day.’

　　‘I fear your kind and open communication, which has renderedme more painfully conscious of my own defects, has not improvedme,’ sighed Kate.

　　‘No, no, I dare say not,’ rejoined Miss Knag, in a mostuncommon flow of good humour. ‘But how much better that youshould know it at first, and so be able to go on, straight andcomfortable! Which way are you walking, my love?’

　　‘Towards the city,’ replied Kate.

　　‘The city!’ cried Miss Knag, regarding herself with great favourin the glass as she tied her bonnet. ‘Goodness gracious me! now doyou really live in the city?’

　　‘Is it so very unusual for anybody to live there?’ asked Kate, halfsmiling.

　　‘I couldn’t have believed it possible that any young womancould have lived there, under any circumstances whatever, forthree days together,’ replied Miss Knag.

　　‘Reduced—I should say poor people,’ answered Kate,correcting herself hastily, for she was afraid of appearing proud,‘must live where they can.’

　　‘Ah! very true, so they must; very proper indeed!’ rejoined MissKnag with that sort of half-sigh, which, accompanied by two orthree slight nods of the head, is pity’s small change in generalsociety; ‘and that’s what I very often tell my brother, when ourservants go away ill, one after another, and he thinks the back-kitchen’s rather too damp for ’em to sleep in. These sort of people,I tell him, are glad to sleep anywhere! Heaven suits the back to the burden. What a nice thing it is to think that it should be so, isn’tit?’

　　‘Very,’ replied Kate.

　　‘I’ll walk with you part of the way, my dear,’ said Miss Knag, ‘foryou must go very near our house; and as it’s quite dark, and ourlast servant went to the hospital a week ago, with St Anthony’s firein her face, I shall be glad of your company.’

　　Kate would willingly have excused herself from this flatteringcompanionship; but Miss Knag having adjusted her bonnet to herentire satisfaction, took her arm with an air which plainly showedhow much she felt the compliment she was conferring, and theywere in the street before she could say another word.

　　‘I fear,’ said Kate, hesitating, ‘that mama—my mother, I mean—is waiting for me.’

　　‘You needn’t make the least apology, my dear,’ said Miss Knag,smiling sweetly as she spoke; ‘I dare say she is a very respectableold person, and I shall be quite—hem—quite pleased to know her.’

　　As poor Mrs Nickleby was cooling—not her heels alone, but herlimbs generally at the street corner, Kate had no alternative but tomake her known to Miss Knag, who, doing the last new carriagecustomer at second-hand, acknowledged the introduction withcondescending politeness. The three then walked away, arm inarm: with Miss Knag in the middle, in a special state of amiability.

　　‘I have taken such a fancy to your daughter, Mrs Nickleby, youcan’t think,’ said Miss Knag, after she had proceeded a littledistance in dignified silence.

　　‘I am delighted to hear it,’ said Mrs Nickleby; ‘though it isnothing new to me, that even strangers should like Kate.’

　　‘Hem!’ cried Miss Knag.

　　 ‘You will like her better when you know how good she is,’ saidMrs Nickleby. ‘It is a great blessing to me, in my misfortunes, tohave a child, who knows neither pride nor vanity, and whosebringing-up might very well have excused a little of both at first.

　　You don’t know what it is to lose a husband, Miss Knag.’

　　As Miss Knag had never yet known what it was to gain one, itfollowed, very nearly as a matter of course, that she didn’t knowwhat it was to lose one; so she said, in some haste, ‘No, indeed Idon’t,’ and said it with an air intending to signify that she shouldlike to catch herself marrying anybody—no, no, she knew betterthan that.

　　‘Kate has improved even in this little time, I have no doubt,’

　　said Mrs Nickleby, glancing proudly at her daughter.

　　‘Oh! of course,’ said Miss Knag.

　　‘And will improve still more,’ added Mrs Nickleby.

　　‘That she will, I’ll be bound,’ replied Miss Knag, squeezingKate’s arm in her own, to point the joke.

　　‘She always was clever,’ said poor Mrs Nickleby, brighteningup, ‘always, from a baby. I recollect when she was only two yearsand a half old, that a gentleman who used to visit very much at ourhouse—Mr Watkins, you know, Kate, my dear, that your poorpapa went bail for, who afterwards ran away to the United States,and sent us a pair of snow shoes, with such an affectionate letterthat it made your poor dear father cry for a week. You rememberthe letter? In which he said that he was very sorry he couldn’trepay the fifty pounds just then, because his capital was all out atinterest, and he was very busy making his fortune, but that hedidn’t forget you were his god-daughter, and he should take it veryunkind if we didn’t buy you a silver coral and put it down to his old account? Dear me, yes, my dear, how stupid you are! andspoke so affectionately of the old port wine that he used to drink abottle and a half of every time he came. You must remember,Kate?’

　　‘Yes, yes, mama; what of him?’

　　‘Why, that Mr Watkins, my dear,’ said Mrs Nickleby slowly, as ifshe were making a tremendous effort to recollect something ofparamount importance; ‘that Mr Watkins—he wasn’t any relation,Miss Knag will understand, to the Watkins who kept the Old Boarin the village; by-the-bye, I don’t remember whether it was the OldBoar or the George the Third, but it was one of the two, I know,and it’s much the same—that Mr Watkins said, when you wereonly two years and a half old, that you were one of the mostastonishing children he ever saw. He did indeed, Miss Knag, andhe wasn’t at all fond of children, and couldn’t have had theslightest motive for doing it. I know it was he who said so, becauseI recollect, as well as if it was only yesterday, his borrowing twentypounds of her poor dear papa the very moment afterwards.’

　　Having quoted this extraordinary and most disinterestedtestimony to her daughter’s excellence, Mrs Nickleby stopped tobreathe; and Miss Knag, finding that the discourse was turningupon family greatness, lost no time in striking in, with a smallreminiscence on her own account.

　　‘Don’t talk of lending money, Mrs Nickleby,’ said Miss Knag, ‘oryou’ll drive me crazy, perfectly crazy. My mama—hem—was themost lovely and beautiful creature, with the most striking andexquisite—hem—the most exquisite nose that ever was put upon ahuman face, I do believe, Mrs Nickleby (here Miss Knag rubbedher own nose sympathetically); the most delightful and accomplished woman, perhaps, that ever was seen; but she hadthat one failing of lending money, and carried it to such an extentthat she lent—hem—oh! thousands of pounds, all our littlefortunes, and what’s more, Mrs Nickleby, I don’t think, if we wereto live till—till—hem—till the very end of time, that we shouldever get them back again. I don’t indeed.’

　　After concluding this effort of invention without beinginterrupted, Miss Knag fell into many more recollections, no lessinteresting than true, the full tide of which, Mrs Nickleby in vainattempting to stem, at length sailed smoothly down by adding anunder-current of her own recollections; and so both ladies went ontalking together in perfect contentment; the only differencebetween them being, that whereas Miss Knag addressed herself toKate, and talked very loud, Mrs Nickleby kept on in one unbrokenmonotonous flow, perfectly satisfied to be talking and caring verylittle whether anybody listened or not.

　　In this manner they walked on, very amicably, until theyarrived at Miss Knag’s brother’s, who was an ornamental stationerand small circulating library keeper, in a by-street off TottenhamCourt Road; and who let out by the day, week, month, or year, thenewest old novels, whereof the titles were displayed in pen-andink characters on a sheet of pasteboard, swinging at his door-post.

　　As Miss Knag happened, at the moment, to be in the middle of anaccount of her twenty-second offer from a gentleman of largeproperty, she insisted upon their all going in to supper together;and in they went. ‘Don’t go away, Mortimer,’ said Miss Knag asthey entered the shop. ‘It’s only one of our young ladies and hermother. Mrs and Miss Nickleby.’

　　‘Oh, indeed!’ said Mr Mortimer Knag. ‘Ah!’

　　 Having given utterance to these ejaculations with a veryprofound and thoughtful air, Mr Knag slowly snuffed two kitchencandles on the counter, and two more in the window, and thensnuffed himself from a box in his waistcoat pocket.

　　There was something very impressive in the ghostly air withwhich all this was done; and as Mr Knag was a tall lank gentlemanof solemn features, wearing spectacles, and garnished with muchless hair than a gentleman bordering on forty, or thereabouts,usually boasts, Mrs Nickleby whispered her daughter that shethought he must be literary.

　　‘Past ten,’ said Mr Knag, consulting his watch. ‘Thomas, closethe warehouse.’

　　Thomas was a boy nearly half as............