To be sure Miss Squeers was in a desperate flutter as the time approached, and to be sure she was dressed out to the best advantage: with her hair--it had more than a tinge of red, and she wore it in a crop--curled in five distinct rows, up to the very top of her head, and arranged dexterously over the doubtful eye; to say nothing of the blue sash which floated down her back, or the worked apron or the long gloves, or the green gauze scarf worn over one shoulder and under the other; or any of the numerous devices which were to be as so many arrows to the heart of Nicholas. She had scarcely completed these arrangements to her entire satisfaction, when the friend arrived with a whity-brown parcel--flat and three-cornered--containing sundry small adornments which were to be put on upstairs, and which the friend put on, talking incessantly. When Miss Squeers had `done' the friend's hair, the friend `did' Miss Squeers's hair, throwing in some striking improvements in the way of ringlets down the neck; and then, when they were both touched up to their entire satisfaction, they went downstairs in full state with the long gloves on, all ready for company.
`Where's John, 'Tilda?' said Miss Squeers.
`Only gone home to clean himself,' replied the friend. `He will be here by the time the tea's drawn.'
`I do so palpitate,' observed Miss Squeers.
`Ah! I know what it is,' replied the friend.
`I have not been used to it, you know, 'Tilda,' said Miss Squeers, applying her hand to the left side of her sash.
`You'll soon get the better of it, dear,' rejoined the friend. While they were talking thus, the hungry servant brought in the tea-things, and, soon afterwards, somebody tapped at the room door.
`There he is!' cried Miss Squeers. `Oh 'Tilda!'
`Hush!' said 'Tilda. `Hem! Say, come in.'
`Come in,' cried Miss Squeers faintly. And in walked Nicholas.
`Good-evening,' said that young gentleman, all unconscious of his conquest.
`I understood from Mr Squeers that--'
`Oh yes; it's all right,' interposed Miss Squeers. `Father don't tea with us, but you won't mind that, I dare say.' (This was said archly.)Nicholas opened his eyes at this, but he turned the matter off very coolly--not caring, particularly, about anything just then--and went through the ceremony of introduction to the miller's daughter with so much grace, that that young lady was lost in admiration.
`We are only waiting for one more gentleman,' said Miss Squeers, taking off the teapot lid, and looking in, to see how the tea was getting on.
It was matter of equal moment to Nicholas whether they were waiting for one gentleman or twenty, so he received the intelligence with perfect unconcern; and, being out of spirits, and not seeing any especial reason why he should make himself agreeable, looked out of the window and sighed involuntarily.
As luck would have it, Miss Squeers's friend was of a playful turn, and hearing Nicholas sigh, she took it into her head to rally the lovers on their lowness of spirits.
`But if it's caused by my being here,' said the young lady, `don't mind me a bit, for I'm quite as bad. You my go on just as you would if you were alone.'
1
am ashamed of you;' and here the two friends burst into a variety of giggles, and glanced from time to time, over the tops of their pocket-handkerchiefs, at Nicholas, who from a state of unmixed astonishment, gradually fell into one of irrepressible laughter--occasioned, partly by the bare notion of his being in love with Miss Squeers, and partly by the preposterous appearance and behaviour of the two girls. These two causes of merriment, taken together, struck him as being so keenly ridiculous, that, despite his miserable condition, he laughed till he was thoroughly exhausted.
`Well,' thought Nicholas, `as I am here, and seem expected, for some reason or other, to be amiable, it's of no use looking like a goose. Imay as well accommodate myself to the company.'
We blush to tell it; but his youthful spirits and vivacity getting, for the time, the better of his sad thoughts, he no sooner formed this resolution than he saluted Miss Squeers and the friend with great gallantry, and drawing a chair to the tea-table, began to make himself more at home than in all probability an usher has ever done in his employer's house since ushers were first invented.
The ladies were in the full delight of this altered behaviour on the part of Mr Nickleby, when the expected swain arrived, with his hair very damp from recent washing, and a clean shirt, whereof the collar might have belonged to some giant, ancestor, forming, together with a white waistcoat of similar dimensions, the chief ornament of his person.
`Well, John,' said Miss Matilda Price (which, by-the-bye, was the name of the miller's daughter).
`Weel,' said John with a grin that even the collar could not conceal.
`I beg your pardon,' interposed Miss Squeers, hastening to do the honours.
`Mr Nickleby--Mr John Browdie.'
`Servant, sir,' said John, who was something over six feet high, with a face and body rather above the due proportion than below it.
`Yours to command, sir,' replied Nicholas, making fearful ravages on the bread and butter.
Mr Browdie was not a gentleman of great conversational powers, so he grinned twice more, and having now bestowed his customary mark of recognition on every person in company, grinned at nothing in particular, and helped himself to food.
`Old wooman awa', bean't she?' said Mr Browdie, with his mouth full.
Miss Squeers nodded assent.
Mr Browdie gave a grin of special width, as if he thought that really was something to laugh at, and went to work at the bread and butter with increased vigour. It was quite a sight to behold how he and Nicholas emptied the plate between them.
`Ye wean't get bread and butther ev'ry neight, I expect, mun,' said Mr Browdie, after he had sat staring at Nicholas a long time over the empty plate.
Nicholas bit his lip, and coloured, but affected not to hear the remark.
