‘“Education.—At Mr. Wackford Squeers’s Academy, Dotheboys Hall, at the delightful village of Dotheboys, near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire, Youth are boarded, clothed, booked, furnished with pocket-money, provided with all necessaries, instructed in all languages living and dead, mathematics, orthography, geometry, astronomy, trigonometry, the use of the globes, algebra, single stick (if required), writing, arithmetic, fortification, and every other branch of classical literature. Terms, twenty guineas per annum. No extras, no vacations, and diet unparalleled. Mr. Squeers is in town, and attends daily, from one till four, at the Saracen’s Head, Snow Hill. N.B. An able assistant wanted. Annual salary 5 pounds. A Master of Arts would be preferred.”
‘There!’ said Ralph, folding the paper again. ‘Let him get that situation, and his fortune is made.’
‘But he is not a Master of Arts,’ said Mrs. Nickleby.
‘That,’ replied Ralph, ‘that, I think, can be got over.’
‘But the salary is so small, and it is such a long way off, uncle!’ faltered Kate.
‘Hush, Kate my dear,’ interposed Mrs. Nickleby; ‘your uncle must know best.’
‘I say,’ repeated Ralph, tartly, ‘let him get that situation, and his fortune is made. If he don’t like that, let him get one for himself. Without friends, money, recommendation, or knowledge of business of any kind, let him find honest employment in London, which will keep him in shoe leather, and I’ll give him a thousand pounds. At least,’ said Mr Ralph Nickleby, checking himself, ‘I would if I had it.’
‘Poor fellow!’ said the young lady. ‘Oh! uncle, must we be separated so soon!’
‘Don’t tease your uncle with questions when he is thinking only for our good, my love,’ said Mrs. Nickleby. ‘Nicholas, my dear, I wish you would say something.’
‘Yes, mother, yes,’ said Nicholas, who had hitherto remained silent and absorbed in thought. ‘If I am fortunate enough to be appointed to this post, sir, for which I am so imperfectly qualified, what will become of those I leave behind?’