Nicholas Nickleby. Чарльз Диккенс

isn’t it? Noggs has lived in this house, now going on for five years, and nobody has ever been to see him before, within the memory of the oldest inhabitant.’

      ‘It’s a strange time of night to be called away, sir, certainly,’ said the collector; ‘and the behaviour of Mr. Noggs himself, is, to say the least of it, mysterious.’

      ‘Well, so it is,’ rejoined Crowl; ‘and I’ll tell you what’s more – I think these two geniuses, whoever they are, have run away from somewhere.’

      ‘What makes you think that, sir?’ demanded the collector, who seemed, by a tacit understanding, to have been chosen and elected mouthpiece to the company. ‘You have no reason to suppose that they have run away from anywhere without paying the rates and taxes due, I hope?’

      Mr. Crowl, with a look of some contempt, was about to enter a general protest against the payment of rates or taxes, under any circumstances, when he was checked by a timely whisper from Kenwigs, and several frowns and winks from Mrs. K., which providentially stopped him.

      ‘Why the fact is,’ said Crowl, who had been listening at Newman’s door with all his might and main; ‘the fact is, that they have been talking so loud, that they quite disturbed me in my room, and so I couldn’t help catching a word here, and a word there; and all I heard, certainly seemed to refer to their having bolted from some place or other. I don’t wish to alarm Mrs. Kenwigs; but I hope they haven’t come from any jail or hospital, and brought away a fever or some unpleasantness of that sort, which might be catching for the children.’

      Mrs. Kenwigs was so overpowered by this supposition, that it needed all the tender attentions of Miss Petowker, of the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, to restore her to anything like a state of calmness; not to mention the assiduity of Mr. Kenwigs, who held a fat smelling-bottle to his lady’s nose, until it became matter of some doubt whether the tears which coursed down her face were the result of feelings or sal volatile.

      The ladies, having expressed their sympathy, singly and separately, fell, according to custom, into a little chorus of soothing expressions, among which, such condolences as ‘Poor dear!’ – ‘I should feel just the same, if I was her’ – ‘To be sure, it’s a very trying thing’ – and ‘Nobody but a mother knows what a mother’s feelings is,’ were among the most prominent, and most frequently repeated. In short, the opinion of the company was so clearly manifested, that Mr. Kenwigs was on the point of repairing to Mr. Noggs’s room, to demand an explanation, and had indeed swallowed a preparatory glass of punch, with great inflexibility and steadiness of purpose, when the attention of all present was diverted by a new and terrible surprise.

      This was nothing less than the sudden pouring forth of a rapid succession of the shrillest and most piercing screams, from an upper story; and to all appearance from the very two-pair back, in which the infant Kenwigs was at that moment enshrined. They were no sooner audible, than Mrs Kenwigs, opining that a strange cat had come in, and sucked the baby’s breath while the girl was asleep, made for the door, wringing her hands, and shrieking dismally; to the great consternation and confusion of the company.

      ‘Mr. Kenwigs, see what it is; make haste!’ cried the sister, laying violent hands upon Mrs. Kenwigs, and holding her back by force. ‘Oh don’t twist about so, dear, or I can never hold you.’

      ‘My baby, my blessed, blessed, blessed, blessed baby!’ screamed Mrs Kenwigs, making every blessed louder than the last. ‘My own darling, sweet, innocent Lillyvick – Oh let me go to him. Let me go-o-o-o!’

      Pending the utterance of these frantic cries, and the wails and lamentations of the four little girls, Mr. Kenwigs rushed upstairs to the room whence the sounds proceeded; at the door of which, he encountered Nicholas, with the child in his arms, who darted out with such violence, that the anxious father was thrown down six stairs, and alighted on the nearest landing-place, before he had found time to open his mouth to ask what was the matter.

      ‘Don’t be alarmed,’ cried Nicholas, running down; ‘here it is; it’s all out, it’s all over; pray compose yourselves; there’s no harm done;’ and with these, and a thousand other assurances, he delivered the baby (whom, in his hurry, he had carried upside down), to Mrs. Kenwigs, and ran back to assist Mr. Kenwigs, who was rubbing his head very hard, and looking much bewildered by his tumble.

      Reassured by this cheering intelligence, the company in some degree recovered from their fears, which had been productive of some most singular instances of a total want of presence of mind; thus, the bachelor friend had, for a long time, supported in his arms Mrs. Kenwigs’s sister, instead of Mrs. Kenwigs; and the worthy Mr. Lillyvick had been actually seen, in the perturbation of his spirits, to kiss Miss Petowker several times, behind the room-door, as calmly as if nothing distressing were going forward.

      ‘It is a mere nothing,’ said Nicholas, returning to Mrs. Kenwigs; ‘the little girl, who was watching the child, being tired I suppose, fell asleep, and set her hair on fire.’

      ‘Oh you malicious little wretch!’ cried Mrs. Kenwigs, impressively shaking her forefinger at the small unfortunate, who might be thirteen years old, and was looking on with a singed head and a frightened face.

      ‘I heard her cries,’ continued Nicholas, ‘and ran down, in time to prevent her setting fire to anything else. You may depend upon it that the child is not hurt; for I took it off the bed myself, and brought it here to convince you.’

      This brief explanation over, the infant, who, as he was christened after the collector! rejoiced in the names of Lillyvick Kenwigs, was partially suffocated under the caresses of the audience, and squeezed to his mother’s bosom, until he roared again. The attention of the company was then directed, by a natural transition, to the little girl who had had the audacity to burn her hair off, and who, after receiving sundry small slaps and pushes from the more energetic of the ladies, was mercifully sent home: the ninepence, with which she was to have been rewarded, being escheated to the Kenwigs family.

      ‘And whatever we are to say to you, sir,’ exclaimed Mrs. Kenwigs, addressing young Lillyvick’s deliverer, ‘I am sure I don’t know.’

      ‘You need say nothing at all,’ replied Nicholas. ‘I have done nothing to found any very strong claim upon your eloquence, I am sure.’

      ‘He might have been burnt to death, if it hadn’t been for you, sir,’ simpered Miss Petowker.

      ‘Not very likely, I think,’ replied Nicholas; ‘for there was abundance of assistance here, which must have reached him before he had been in any danger.’

      ‘You will let us drink your health, anyvays, sir!’ said Mr. Kenwigs motioning towards the table.

      ‘ – In my absence, by all means,’ rejoined Nicholas, with a smile. ‘I have had a very fatiguing journey, and should be most indifferent company – a far greater check upon your merriment, than a promoter of it, even if I kept awake, which I think very doubtful. If you will allow me, I’ll return to my friend, Mr. Noggs, who went upstairs again, when he found nothing serious had occurred. Good-night.’

      Excusing himself, in these terms, from joining in the festivities, Nicholas took a most winning farewell of Mrs. Kenwigs and the other ladies, and retired, after making a very extraordinary impression upon the company.

      ‘What a delightful young man!’ cried Mrs. Kenwigs.

      ‘Uncommon gentlemanly, really,’ said Mr. Kenwigs. ‘Don’t you think so, Mr Lillyvick?’

      ‘Yes,’ said the collector, with a dubious shrug of his shoulders, ‘He is gentlemanly, very gentlemanly – in appearance.’

      ‘I hope you don’t see anything against him, uncle?’ inquired Mrs. Kenwigs.

      ‘No, my dear,’ replied the collector, ‘no. I trust he may not turn out – well – no matter – my love to you, my dear, and long life to the baby!’

      ‘Your namesake,’ said Mrs. Kenwigs, with a sweet smile.

      ‘And I hope a worthy namesake,’ observed Mr. Kenwigs, willing to propitiate the collector. ‘I hope a baby as will never disgrace his godfather, and as may be considered, in