‘Very good.’
‘Occasionally, perhaps, the writing from your dictation; and possibly, sir,’ said Nicholas, with a half-smile, ‘the copying of your speech for some public journal, when you have made one of more than usual importance.’
‘Certainly,’ rejoined Mr. Gregsbury. ‘What else?’
‘Really,’ said Nicholas, after a moment’s reflection, ‘I am not able, at this instant, to recapitulate any other duty of a secretary, beyond the general one of making himself as agreeable and useful to his employer as he can, consistently with his own respectability, and without overstepping that line of duties which he undertakes to perform, and which the designation of his office is usually understood to imply.’
Mr. Gregsbury looked fixedly at Nicholas for a short time, and then glancing warily round the room, said in a suppressed voice:
‘This is all very well, Mr—what is your name?’
‘Nickleby.’
‘This is all very well, Mr. Nickleby, and very proper, so far as it goes—so far as it goes, but it doesn’t go far enough. There are other duties, Mr Nickleby, which a secretary to a parliamentary gentleman must never lose sight of. I should require to be crammed, sir.’
‘I beg your pardon,’ interposed Nicholas, doubtful whether he had heard aright.
‘—To be crammed, sir,’ repeated Mr. Gregsbury.