in a tone of remonstrance.

'I had indeed, my dear,' said Mrs Nickleby; 'not including your poor
papa, or a young gentleman who used to go, at that time, to the same
dancing school, and who WOULD send gold watches and bracelets to
our house in gilt-edged paper, (which were always returned,) and who
afterwards unfortunately went out to Botany Bay in a cadet ship--a
convict ship I mean--and escaped into a bush and killed sheep, (I don't
know how they got there,) and was going to be hung, only he accidentally
choked himself, and the government pardoned him. Then there was young
Lukin,' said Mrs Nickleby, beginning with her left thumb and checking
off the names on her fingers--'Mogley--Tipslark--Cabbery--Smifser--'

Having now reached her little finger, Mrs Nickleby was carrying the
account over to the other hand, when a loud 'Hem!' which appeared to
come from the very foundation of the garden-wall, gave both herself and
her daughter a violent start.

'Mama! what was that?' said Kate, in a low tone of voice.

'Upon my word, my dear,' returned Mrs Nickleby, considerably startled,
'unless it was the gentleman belonging to the next house, I don't know
what it could possibly--'

'A--hem!' cried the same voice; and that, not in the tone of an ordinary
clearing of the throat, but in a kind of bellow, which woke up all the
echoes in the neighbourhood, and was prolonged to an extent which must
have made the unseen bellower quite black in the face.

'I understand it now, my dear,' said Mrs Nickleby, laying her hand on
Kate's; 'don't be alarmed, my love, it's not directed to you, and is not
intended to frighten anybody. Let us give everybody their due, Kate; I
am bound to say that.'

So saying, Mrs Nickleby nodded her head, and patted the back of her
daughter's hand, a great many times, and looked as if she could tell
something vastly important if she chose, but had self-denial, thank
Heaven; and wouldn't do it.

'What do you mean, mama?' demanded Kate, in evident surprise.

'Don't be flurried, my dear,' replied Mrs Nickleby, looking towards
the garden-wall, 'for you see I'm not, and if it would be excusable
in anybody to be flurried, it certainly would--under all the
circumstances--be excusable in me, but I am not, Kate--not at all.'

'It seems designed to attract our attention, mama,' said Kate.

'It is designed to attract our attention, my dear; at least,' rejoined
Mrs Nickleby, drawing herself up, and patting her daug