Nicholas Nickleby. Чарльз Диккенс

repeated Master Belling again.

      ‘Very good indeed,’ said Squeers. ‘Yes.’

      ‘P,’ suggested Nicholas, good-naturedly.

      ‘Perform – business!’ said Master Belling. ‘Never – perform – business!’

      ‘Very well, sir,’ said Squeers, darting a withering look at the culprit. ‘You and I will perform a little business on our private account by-and-by.’

      ‘And just now,’ said Ralph, ‘we had better transact our own, perhaps.’

      ‘If you please,’ said Squeers.

      ‘Well,’ resumed Ralph, ‘it’s brief enough; soon broached; and I hope easily concluded. You have advertised for an able assistant, sir?’

      ‘Precisely so,’ said Squeers.

      ‘And you really want one?’

      ‘Certainly,’ answered Squeers.

      ‘Here he is!’ said Ralph. ‘My nephew Nicholas, hot from school, with everything he learnt there, fermenting in his head, and nothing fermenting in his pocket, is just the man you want.’

      ‘I am afraid,’ said Squeers, perplexed with such an application from a youth of Nicholas’s figure, ‘I am afraid the young man won’t suit me.’

      ‘Yes, he will,’ said Ralph; ‘I know better. Don’t be cast down, sir; you will be teaching all the young noblemen in Dotheboys Hall in less than a week’s time, unless this gentleman is more obstinate than I take him to be.’

      ‘I fear, sir,’ said Nicholas, addressing Mr. Squeers, ‘that you object to my youth, and to my not being a Master of Arts?’

      ‘The absence of a college degree is an objection,’ replied Squeers, looking as grave as he could, and considerably puzzled, no less by the contrast between the simplicity of the nephew and the worldly manner of the uncle, than by the incomprehensible allusion to the young noblemen under his tuition.

      ‘Look here, sir,’ said Ralph; ‘I’ll put this matter in its true light in two seconds.’

      ‘If you’ll have the goodness,’ rejoined Squeers.

      ‘This is a boy, or a youth, or a lad, or a young man, or a hobbledehoy, or whatever you like to call him, of eighteen or nineteen, or thereabouts,’ said Ralph.

      ‘That I see,’ observed the schoolmaster.

      ‘So do I,’ said Mr. Snawley, thinking it as well to back his new friend occasionally.

      ‘His father is dead, he is wholly ignorant of the world, has no resources whatever, and wants something to do,’ said Ralph. ‘I recommend him to this splendid establishment of yours, as an opening which will lead him to fortune if he turns it to proper account. Do you see that?’

      ‘Everybody must see that,’ replied Squeers, half imitating the sneer with which the old gentleman was regarding his unconscious relative.

      ‘I do, of course,’ said Nicholas, eagerly.

      ‘He does, of course, you observe,’ said Ralph, in the same dry, hard manner. ‘If any caprice of temper should induce him to cast aside this golden opportunity before he has brought it to perfection, I consider myself absolved from extending any assistance to his mother and sister. Look at him, and think of the use he may be to you in half-a-dozen ways! Now, the question is, whether, for some time to come at all events, he won’t serve your purpose better than twenty of the kind of people you would get under ordinary circumstances. Isn’t that a question for consideration?’

      ‘Yes, it is,’ said Squeers, answering a nod of Ralph’s head with a nod of his own.

      ‘Good,’ rejoined Ralph. ‘Let me have two words with you.’

      The two words were had apart; in a couple of minutes Mr. Wackford Squeers announced that Mr. Nicholas Nickleby was, from that moment, thoroughly nominated to, and installed in, the office of first assistant master at Dotheboys Hall.

      ‘Your uncle’s recommendation has done it, Mr. Nickleby,’ said Wackford Squeers.

      Nicholas, overjoyed at his success, shook his uncle’s hand warmly, and could almost have worshipped Squeers upon the spot.

      ‘He is an odd-looking man,’ thought Nicholas. ‘What of that? Porson was an odd-looking man, and so was Doctor Johnson; all these bookworms are.’

      ‘At eight o’clock tomorrow morning, Mr. Nickleby,’ said Squeers, ‘the coach starts. You must be here at a quarter before, as we take these boys with us.’

      ‘Certainly, sir,’ said Nicholas.

      ‘And your fare down, I have paid,’ growled Ralph. ‘So, you’ll have nothing to do but keep yourself warm.’

      Here was another instance of his uncle’s generosity! Nicholas felt his unexpected kindness so much, that he could scarcely find words to thank him; indeed, he had not found half enough, when they took leave of the schoolmaster, and emerged from the Saracen’s Head gateway.

      ‘I shall be here in the morning to see you fairly off,’ said Ralph. ‘No skulking!’

      ‘Thank you, sir,’ replied Nicholas; ‘I never shall forget this kindness.’

      ‘Take care you don’t,’ replied his uncle. ‘You had better go home now, and pack up what you have got to pack. Do you think you could find your way to Golden Square first?’

      ‘Certainly,’ said Nicholas. ‘I can easily inquire.’

      ‘Leave these papers with my clerk, then,’ said Ralph, producing a small parcel, ‘and tell him to wait till I come home.’

      Nicholas cheerfully undertook the errand, and bidding his worthy uncle an affectionate farewell, which that warm-hearted old gentleman acknowledged by a growl, hastened away to execute his commission.

      He found Golden Square in due course; Mr. Noggs, who had stepped out for a minute or so to the public-house, was opening the door with a latch-key, as he reached the steps.

      ‘What’s that?’ inquired Noggs, pointing to the parcel.

      ‘Papers from my uncle,’ replied Nicholas; ‘and you’re to have the goodness to wait till he comes home, if you please.’

      ‘Uncle!’ cried Noggs.

      ‘Mr. Nickleby,’ said Nicholas in explanation.

      ‘Come in,’ said Newman.

      Without another word he led Nicholas into the passage, and thence into the official pantry at the end of it, where he thrust him into a chair, and mounting upon his high stool, sat, with his arms hanging, straight down by his sides, gazing fixedly upon him, as from a tower of observation.

      ‘There is no answer,’ said Nicholas, laying the parcel on a table beside him.

      Newman said nothing, but folding his arms, and thrusting his head forward so as to obtain a nearer view of Nicholas’s face, scanned his features closely.

      ‘No answer,’ said Nicholas, speaking very loud, under the impression that Newman Noggs was deaf.

      Newman placed his hands upon his knees, and, without uttering a syllable, continued the same close scrutiny of his companion’s face.

      This was such a very singular proceeding on the part of an utter stranger, and his appearance was so extremely peculiar, that Nicholas, who had a sufficiently keen sense of the ridiculous, could not refrain from breaking into a smile as he inquired whether Mr. Noggs had any commands for him.

      Noggs shook his head and sighed; upon which Nicholas rose, and remarking that he required no rest, bade him good-morning.

      It was a great exertion for Newman Noggs, and nobody knows to this day how he ever came to make it, the other party being wholly unknown to him, but he drew a long breath and actually said, out loud, without once stopping, that if the young gentleman did not object to tell, he should like to know what his uncle