see that,
at all. It's hopeless on his part, certainly; but why he should be an
absurd old idiot, I confess I don't see. He is not to be supposed to
know it's hopeless. Poor fellow! He is to be pitied, I think!'

Having made these reflections, Mrs Nickleby looked in her little
dressing-glass, and walking backward a few steps from it, tried
to remember who it was who used to say that when Nicholas was
one-and-twenty he would have more the appearance of her brother than her
son. Not being able to call the authority to mind, she extinguished
her candle, and drew up the window-blind to admit the light of morning,
which had, by this time, begun to dawn.

'It's a bad light to distinguish objects in,' murmured Mrs Nickleby,
peering into the garden, 'and my eyes are not very good--I was
short-sighted from a child--but, upon my word, I think there's another
large vegetable marrow sticking, at this moment, on the broken glass
bottles at the top of the wall!'

CHAPTER 38

Comprises certain Particulars arising out of a Visit of Condolence,
which may prove important hereafter. Smike unexpectedly encounters a
very old Friend, who invites him to his House, and will take no Denial

Quite unconscious of the demonstrations of their amorous neighbour, or
their effects upon the susceptible bosom of her mama, Kate Nickleby
had, by this time, begun to enjoy a settled feeling of tranquillity and
happiness, to which, even in occasional and transitory glimpses, she
had long been a stranger. Living under the same roof with the beloved
brother from whom she had been so suddenly and hardly separated: with
a mind at ease, and free from any persecutions which could call a blush
into her cheek, or a pang into her heart, she seemed to have passed into
a new state of being. Her former cheerfulness was restored, her step
regained its elasticity and lightness, the colour which had forsaken
her cheek visited it once again, and Kate Nickleby looked more beautiful
than ever.

Such was the result to which Miss La Creevy's ruminations and
observations led her, when the cottage had been, as she emphatically
said, 'thoroughly got to rights, from the chimney-pots to the
street-door scraper,' and the busy little woman had at length a moment's
time to think about its inmates.

'Which I declare I haven't had since I first came down here,' said
Miss La Creevy; 'for I have thought of nothing but hammers, nails,
screwdrivers, and gimlets, morning, noon,