It now became Miss Squeers’s turn to intercede with Nicholas, which she did with many symptoms of alarm and horror; the effect of the double intercession was, that he and John Browdie shook hands across the table with much gravity; and such was the imposing nature of the ceremonial, that Miss Squeers was overcome and shed tears.
‘What’s the matter, Fanny?’ said Miss Price.
‘Nothing, ‘Tilda,’ replied Miss Squeers, sobbing.
‘There never was any danger,’ said Miss Price, ‘was there, Mr. Nickleby?’
‘None at all,’ replied Nicholas. ‘Absurd.’
‘That’s right,’ whispered Miss Price, ‘say something kind to her, and she’ll soon come round. Here! Shall John and I go into the little kitchen, and come back presently?’
‘Not on any account,’ rejoined Nicholas, quite alarmed at the proposition. ‘What on earth should you do that for?’
‘Well,’ said Miss Price, beckoning him aside, and speaking with some degree of contempt—‘you are a one to keep company.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Nicholas; ‘I am not a one to keep company at all—here at all events. I can’t make this out.’
‘No, nor I neither,’ rejoined Miss Price; ‘but men are always fickle, and always were, and always will be; that I can make out, very easily.’