Smike becomes known to Mrs Nickleby and Kate.

　　Nicholas also meets with new Acquaintances.

　　Brighter Days seem to dawn upon the Family.

　　Having established his mother and sister in theapartments of the kind-hearted miniature painter, andascertained that Sir Mulberry Hawk was in no danger oflosing his life, Nicholas turned his thoughts to poor Smike, who,after breakfasting with Newman Noggs, had remained, in adisconsolate 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 forhis own sake, and if not (on that account solely) to the full extent Icould wish, they will stretch a point, I am sure, for mine.’

　　Nicholas said ‘they’, but his misgivings were confined to oneperson. He was sure of Kate, but he knew his mother’speculiarities, and was not quite so certain that Smike would findfavour in the eyes of Mrs Nickleby.

　　‘However,’ thought Nicholas as he departed on his benevolenterrand; ‘she cannot fail to become attached to him, when sheknows what a devoted creature he is, and as she must quicklymake the discovery, his probation will be a short one.’

　　‘I was afraid,’ said Smike, overjoyed to see his friend again,‘that you had 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 soeasily, I promise you. I shall rise to the surface many thousandtimes yet, and the harder the thrust that pushes me down, themore quickly I shall rebound, Smike. But come; my errand here isto 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 andnight, for many years. I longed for home till I was weary, andpined away with grief, 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,’ repliedSmike, pressing his hand; ‘except one, except one. I shall never bean old man; and if your hand placed me in the grave, and I couldthink, before I died, that you would come and look upon itsometimes with one of your kind smiles, and in the summerweather, when everything was alive—not dead like me—I could goto that home almost without a tear.’

　　‘Why do you talk thus, poor boy, if your life is a happy one withme?’ said Nicholas.

　　‘Because I should change; not those about me. And if theyforgot me, I should never know it,’ replied Smike. ‘In thechurchyard we are all alike, but here there are none like me. I ama poor creature, but I know that.’

　　‘You are a foolish, silly creature,’ said Nicholas cheerfully. ‘Ifthat is what you mean, I grant you that. Why, here’s a dismal facefor ladies’ company!—my pretty sister too, whom you have so often asked me about. Is this your Yorkshire gallantry? Forshame! for shame!’

　　Smike brightened up and smiled.

　　‘When I talk of home,’ pursued Nicholas, ‘I talk of mine—whichis yours of course. If it were defined by any particular four wallsand a roof, God knows I should be sufficiently puzzled to saywhereabouts it lay; but that is not what I mean. When I speak ofhome, I speak of the place where—in default of a better—those Ilove are gathered together; and if that place were a gypsy’s tent, ora barn, I should call it by the same good name notwithstanding.

　　And now, for what is my present home, which, however alarmingyour expectations may be, will neither terrify you by its extent norits magnificence!’

　　So saying, Nicholas took his companion by the arm, and sayinga great deal more to the same purpose, and pointing out variousthings to amuse and interest him as they went along, led the wayto Miss La Creevy’s house.

　　‘And this, Kate,’ said Nicholas, entering the room where hissister sat alone, ‘is the faithful friend and affectionate fellow-traveller whom I prepared you to receive.’

　　Poor Smike was bashful, and awkward, and frightened enough,at first, but Kate advanced towards him so kindly, and said, insuch a sweet voice, how anxious she had been to see him after allher brother had told her, and how much she had to thank him forhaving comforted Nicholas so greatly in their very trying reverses,that he began to be very doubtful whether he should shed tears ornot, and became still more flurried. However, he managed to say,in a broken voice, that Nicholas was his only friend, and that hewould lay down his life to help him; and Kate, although she was so kind and considerate, seemed to be so wholly unconscious of hisdistress and embarrassment, that he recovered almostimmediately and felt quite at home.

　　Then, Miss La Creevy came in; and to her Smike had to bepresented also. And Miss La Creevy was very kind too, andwonderfully talkative: not to Smike, for that would have made himuneasy at first, but to Nicholas and his sister. Then, after a time,she would speak to Smike himself now and then, asking himwhether he was a judge of likenesses, and whether he thought thatpicture in the corner was like herself, and whether he didn’t thinkit would have looked better if she had made herself ten yearsyounger, and whether he didn’t think, as a matter of generalobservation, that young ladies looked better not only in pictures,but out of them too, than old ones; with many more small jokesand facetious remarks, which were delivered with such good-humour and merriment, that Smike thought, within himself, shewas the nicest lady he had ever seen; even nicer than MrsGrudden, of Mr Vincent Crummles’s theatre; and she was a nicelady too, and talked, perhaps more, but certainly louder, than MissLa Creevy.

　　At length the door opened again, and a lady in mourning camein; and Nicholas kissing the lady in mourning affectionately, andcalling her his mother, led her towards the chair from whichSmike had risen when she entered the room.

　　‘You are always kind-hearted, and anxious to help theoppressed, my dear mother,’ said Nicholas, ‘so you will befavourably disposed towards him, I know.’

　　‘I am sure, my dear Nicholas,’ replied Mrs Nickleby, lookingvery hard at her new friend, and bending to him with something more of majesty than the occasion seemed to require: ‘I am sureany friend of yours has, as indeed he naturally ought to have, andmust have, of course, you know, a great claim upon me, and ofcourse, it is a very great pleasure to me to be introduced toanybody you take an interest in. There can he no doubt about that;none at all; not the least in the world,’ said Mrs Nickleby. ‘At thesame time I must say, Nicholas, my dear, as I used to say to yourpoor dear papa, when he would bring gentlemen home to dinner,and there was nothing in the house, that if he had come the daybefore yesterday—no, I don’t mean the day before yesterday now;I should have said, perhaps, the year before last—we should havebeen better able to entertain him.’

　　With which remarks, Mrs Nickleby turned to her daughter, andinquired, in an audible whisper, whether the gentleman was goingto stop all night.

　　‘Because, if he is, Kate, my dear,’ said Mrs Nickleby, ‘I don’t seethat it’s possible for him to sleep anywhere, and that’s the truth.’

　　Kate stepped gracefully forward, and without any show ofannoyance or irritation, breathed a few words into her mother’sear.

　　‘La, Kate, my dear,’ said Mrs Nickleby, shrinking back, ‘howyou do tickle one! Of course, I understand that, my love, withoutyour telling me; and I said the same to Nicholas, and I am verymuch pleased. You didn’t tell me, Nicholas, my dear,’ added MrsNickleby, turning round with an air of less reserve than she hadbefore assumed, ‘what your friend’s name is.’

　　‘His name, mother,’ replied Nicholas, ‘is Smike.’

　　The effect of this communication was by no means anticipated;but the name 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 supporther.

　　‘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 fulltumbler, and spilling the remainder, Mrs Nickleby was better, andremarked, with a 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, thatwhen she was a young lady, and before she was married, she wasturning a corner into Oxford Street one day, when she ran againsther own hairdresser, who, it seems, was escaping from a bear;—the mere suddenness of the encounter made her faint awaydirectly. Wait, though,’ added Mrs Nickleby, pausing to consider.

　　‘Let me be sure I’m right. Was it her hairdresser who had escapedfrom a bear, or was it a bear who had escaped from herhairdresser’s? I declare I can’t remember just now, but thehairdresser was a very handsome man, I know, and quite agentleman in his manners; so that it has nothing to do with thepoint of the story.’

　　Mrs Nickleby having fallen imperceptibly into one of herretrospective moods, improved in temper from that moment, andglided, by an easy change of the conversation occasionally, intovarious other anecdotes, no less remarkable for their strictapplication to the subject in hand.

　　 ‘Mr Smike is from Yorkshire, Nicholas, my dear?’ said MrsNickleby, after dinner, and when she had been silent for sometime.

　　‘Certainly, mother,’ replied Nicholas. ‘I see you have notforgotten his melancholy history.’

　　‘O dear no,’ cried Mrs Nickleby. ‘Ah! melancholy, indeed. Youdon’t happen, Mr Smike, ever to have dined with the Grimbles ofGrimble Hall, somewhere in the North Riding, do you?’ said thegood lady, addressing herself to him. ‘A very proud man, SirThomas Grimble, with six grown-up and 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 receivemany cards of invitation from the nobility and gentry in theneighbourhood?’

　　‘Really, my dear, I don’t know why it should be so veryextraordinary,’ said Mrs Nickleby. ‘I know that when I was atschool, I always went at least twice every half-year to theHawkinses at Taunton Vale, and they are much richer than theGrimbles, and connected with them in marriage; so you see it’s notso very unlikely, after all.’

　　Having put down Nicholas in this triumphant manner, MrsNickleby was suddenly seized with a forgetfulness of Smike’s realname, and an irresistible tendency to call him Mr Slammons;which circumstance she attributed to the remarkable similarity ofthe two names in point of sound both beginning with an S, andmoreover being spelt with an M. But whatever doubt there mightbe on this point, there was none as to his being a most excellentlistener; which circumstance had considerable influence in placing them on the very best terms, and inducing Mrs Nickleby toexpress the highest opinion of his general deportment anddisposition.

　　Thus, the little circle remained, on the most amicable andagreeable footing, until the Monday morning, when Nicholaswithdrew himself from it for a short time, seriously to reflect uponthe state of his affairs, and to determine, if he could, upon somecourse of life, which would enable him to support those who wereso entirely dependent upon his exertions.

　　Mr Crummles occurred to him more than once; but althoughKate was acquainted with the whole history of his connection withthat gentleman, his mother was not; and he foresaw a thousandfretful objections, on her part, to his seeking a livelihood upon thestage. There were graver reasons, too, against his returning to thatmode of life. Independently of those arising out of its spare andprecarious earnings, and his own internal conviction that he couldnever hope to aspire to any great distinction, even as a provincialactor, how could he carry his sister from town to town, and placeto place, and debar her from any other associates than those withwhom he would be compelled, almost without distinction, tomingle? ‘It won’t do,’ said Nicholas, shaking his head; ‘I must trysomething else.’

　　It was much easier to make this resolution than to carry it intoeffect. With no greater experience of the world than he hadacquired for himself in his short trials; with a sufficient share ofheadlong rashness and precipitation (qualities not altogetherunnatural at his time of life); with a very slender stock of money,and a still more scanty stock of friends; what could he do? ‘Egad!’

　　said Nicholas, ‘I’ll try that Register Office again.’

　　 He smiled at himself as he walked away with a quick step; for,an instant before, he had been internally blaming his ownprecipitation. He did not laugh himself out of the intention,however, for on he went: picturing to himself, as he approachedthe place, all kinds of splendid possibilities, and impossibilities too,for that matter, and thinking himself, perhaps with good reason,very fortunate to be endowed with so buoyant and sanguine atemperament.

　　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 verysame placards in the window that he had seen before. There werethe same unimpeachable masters and mistresses in want ofvirtuous servants, and the same virtuous servants in want ofunimpeachable masters and mistresses, and the same magnificentestates for the investment of capital, and the same enormousquantities of capital to be invested in estates, and, in short, thesame opportunities of all sorts for people who wanted to maketheir fortunes. And a most extraordinary proof it was of thenational 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 gentlemanhappened to stop too; and Nicholas, carrying his eye along thewindow-panes from left to right in search of some capital-textplacard which should be applicable to his own case, caught sightof this old gentleman’s figure, and instinctively withdrew his eyesfrom the window, to observe the same more closely.

　　He was a sturdy old fellow in a broad-skirted blue coat, madepretty large, to fit easily, and with no particular waist; his bulkylegs clothed in drab breeches and high gaiters, and his head protected by a low-crowned broad-brimmed white hat, such as awealthy grazier might wear. He wore his coat buttoned; and hisdimpled double chin rested in the folds of a white neckerchief—not one of your stiff-starched apoplectic cravats, but a good, easy,old-fashioned white neckcloth that a man might go to bed in andbe none the worse for. But what principally attracted the attentionof Nicholas was the old gentleman’s eye,—never was such a clear,twinkling, honest, merry, happy eye, as that. And there he stood,looking a little upward, with one hand thrust into the breast of hiscoat, and the other playing with his old-fashioned gold watch-chain: his head thrown a little on one side, and his hat a little moreon one side than his head, (but that was evidently accident; not hisordinary way of wearing it,) with such a pleasant smile playingabout his mouth, and such a comical expression of mingledslyness, simplicity, kind-heartedness, and good-humour, lightingup his jolly old face, that Nicholas would have been content tohave stood there and looked at him until evening, and to haveforgotten, meanwhile, that there was such a thing as a souredmind or a crabbed countenance to be met with in the whole wideworld.

　　But, even a very remote approach to this gratification was notto be made, for although he seemed quite unconscious of havingbeen the subject of observation, he looked casually at Nicholas;and the latter, fearful of giving offence, resumed his scrutiny of thewindow instantly.

　　Still, the old gentleman stood there, glancing from placard toplacard, and Nicholas could not forbear raising his eyes to his faceagain. Grafted upon the quaintness and oddity of his appearance,was something so indescribably engaging, and bespeaking so much worth, and there were so many little lights hovering aboutthe corners of his mouth and eyes, that it was not a mereamusement, but a positive pleasure and delight to look at him.

　　This being the case, it is no wonder that the old man caughtNicholas in the fact, more than once. At such times, Nicholascoloured and looked embarrassed: for the truth is, that he hadbegun to wonder whether the stranger could, by any possibility, belooking for a clerk or secretary; and thinking this, he felt as if theold gentleman must know it.

　　Long as all this takes to tell, it was not more than a couple ofminutes in passing. As the stranger was moving away, Nicholascaught his eye again, and, in the awkwardness of the moment,stammered out an apology. ‘No offence. Oh no offence!’ said theold man.

　　This was said in such a hearty tone, and the voice was soexactly what it should have been from such a speaker, and therewas such a cordiality in the manner, that Nicholas wasemboldened to speak again.

　　‘A great many opportunities here, sir,’ he said, half smiling ashe motioned towards the window.

　　‘A great many people willing and anxious to be employed haveseriously thought 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 wasabout to speak, good-naturedly slackened his pace, as if he wereunwilling to cut him short. After a little of that hesitation whichmay be sometimes observed between two people in the street whohave exchanged a nod, and are both uncertain whether they shallturn back and speak, or not, Nicholas found himself at the old man’s side.

　　‘You were about to speak, young gentleman; what were yougoing to say?’

　　‘Merely that I almost hoped—I mean to say, thought—you hadsome object in consulting those advertisements,’ said Nicholas.

　　‘Ay, ay? what object now—what object?’ returned the old man,looking slyly at Nicholas. ‘Did you think I wanted a situationnow—eh? Did you think I did?’

　　Nicholas shook his head.

　　‘Ha! ha!’ laughed the old gentleman, rubbing his hands andwrists as if he were washing them. ‘A very natural thought, at allevents, after seeing me gazing at those bills. I thought the same ofyou, at first; upon my word I did.’

　　‘If you had thought so at last, too, sir, you would not have beenfar from the truth,’ rejoined Nicholas.

　　‘Eh?’ cried the old man, surveying him from head to foot.

　　‘What! Dear me! No, no. Well-behaved young gentleman reducedto such a necessity! No no, no no.’

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

　　‘Stay,’ said the old man, beckoning him into a bye street, wherethey could converse with less interruption. ‘What d’ye mean, e............