commanded him to drain it
to the last drop.

Newman looked uncommonly blank when he found that Smike did little more
than put his lips to the precious mixture; he was in the act of raising
the mug to his own mouth with a deep sigh of compassion for his poor
friend's weakness, when Smike, beginning to relate the adventures which
had befallen him, arrested him half-way, and he stood listening, with
the mug in his hand.

It was odd enough to see the change that came over Newman as Smike
proceeded. At first he stood, rubbing his lips with the back of his
hand, as a preparatory ceremony towards composing himself for a draught;
then, at the mention of Squeers, he took the mug under his arm, and
opening his eyes very wide, looked on, in the utmost astonishment. When
Smike came to the assault upon himself in the hackney coach, he hastily
deposited the mug upon the table, and limped up and down the room in a
state of the greatest excitement, stopping himself with a jerk, every
now and then, as if to listen more attentively. When John Browdie came
to be spoken of, he dropped, by slow and gradual degrees, into a chair,
and rubbing, his hands upon his knees--quicker and quicker as the story
reached its climax--burst, at last, into a laugh composed of one
loud sonorous 'Ha! ha!' having given vent to which, his countenance
immediately fell again as he inquired, with the utmost anxiety, whether
it was probable that John Browdie and Squeers had come to blows.

'No! I think not,' replied Smike. 'I don't think he could have missed me
till I had got quite away.'

Newman scratched his head with a shout of great disappointment, and
once more lifting up the mug, applied himself to the contents; smiling
meanwhile, over the rim, with a grim and ghastly smile at Smike.

'You shall stay here,' said Newman; 'you're tired--fagged. I'll tell
them you're come back. They have been half mad about you. Mr Nicholas--'

'God bless him!' cried Smike.

'Amen!' returned Newman. 'He hasn't had a minute's rest or peace; no
more has the old lady, nor Miss Nickleby.'

'No, no. Has SHE thought about me?' said Smike. 'Has she though? oh, has
she, has she? Don't tell me so if she has not.'

'She has,' cried Newman. 'She is as noble-hearted as she is beautiful.'

'Yes, yes!' cried Smike. 'Well said!'

'So mild and gentle,' said Newman.

'Yes, yes!' cried Smike, with increasing eagerness.

'And yet with such a true and gallant spirit,' pursued Newman.