‘What may you call his nose, now, my dear?’ pursued Mrs. Nickleby, wishing to interest Nicholas in the subject to the utmost.
‘Call it?’ repeated Nicholas.
‘Ah!’ returned his mother, ‘what style of nose? What order of architecture, if one may say so. I am not very learned in noses. Do you call it a Roman or a Grecian?’
‘Upon my word, mother,’ said Nicholas, laughing, ‘as well as I remember, I should call it a kind of Composite, or mixed nose. But I have no very strong recollection on the subject. If it will afford you any gratification, I’ll observe it more closely, and let you know.’
‘I wish you would, my dear,’ said Mrs. Nickleby, with an earnest look.
‘Very well,’ returned Nicholas. ‘I will.’
Nicholas returned to the perusal of the book he had been reading, when the dialogue had gone thus far. Mrs. Nickleby, after stopping a little for consideration, resumed.
‘He is very much attached to you, Nicholas, my dear.’
Nicholas laughingly said, as he closed his book, that he was glad to hear it, and observed that his mother seemed deep in their new friend’s confidence already.
‘Hem!’ said Mrs. Nickleby. ‘I don’t know about that, my dear, but I think it is very necessary that somebody should be in his confidence; highly necessary.’