‘I have ventured to call, ma’am,’ said Kate, after a few seconds of awkward silence, ‘from having seen your advertisement.’
‘Yes,’ replied Mrs. Wititterly, ‘one of my people put it in the paper—Yes.’
‘I thought, perhaps,’ said Kate, modestly, ‘that if you had not already made a final choice, you would forgive my troubling you with an application.’
‘Yes,’ drawled Mrs. Wititterly again.
‘If you have already made a selection—’
‘Oh dear no,’ interrupted the lady, ‘I am not so easily suited. I really don’t know what to say. You have never been a companion before, have you?’
Mrs. Nickleby, who had been eagerly watching her opportunity, came dexterously in, before Kate could reply. ‘Not to any stranger, ma’am,’ said the good lady; ‘but she has been a companion to me for some years. I am her mother, ma’am.’
‘Oh!’ said Mrs. Wititterly, ‘I apprehend you.’
‘I assure you, ma’am,’ said Mrs. Nickleby, ‘that I very little thought, at one time, that it would be necessary for my daughter to go out into the world at all, for her poor dear papa was an independent gentleman, and would have been at this moment if he had but listened in time to my constant entreaties and—’
‘Dear mama,’ said Kate, in a low voice.