any other?' asked Ralph, sharply.

'No!' said the man.

'You were right,' retorted Ralph; 'and as you feel no surprise, need
express none.'

'Mr Nickleby,' said the man, bluntly, after a brief pause, during which
he had seemed to struggle with an inclination to answer him by some
reproach, 'will you hear a few words that I have to say?'

'I am obliged to wait here till the rain holds a little,' said Ralph,
looking abroad. 'If you talk, sir, I shall not put my fingers in my
ears, though your talking may have as much effect as if I did.'

'I was once in your confidence--' thus his companion began. Ralph looked
round, and smiled involuntarily.

'Well,' said the other, 'as much in your confidence as you ever chose to
let anybody be.'

'Ah!' rejoined Ralph, folding his arms; 'that's another thing, quite
another thing.'

'Don't let us play upon words, Mr Nickleby, in the name of humanity.'

'Of what?' said Ralph.

'Of humanity,' replied the other, sternly. 'I am hungry and in want. If
the change that you must see in me after so long an absence--must see,
for I, upon whom it has come by slow and hard degrees, see it and know
it well--will not move you to pity, let the knowledge that bread; not
the daily bread of the Lord's Prayer, which, as it is offered up in
cities like this, is understood to include half the luxuries of the
world for the rich, and just as much coarse food as will support life
for the poor--not that, but bread, a crust of dry hard bread, is beyond
my reach today--let that have some weight with you, if nothing else
has.'

'If this is the usual form in which you beg, sir,' said Ralph, 'you have
studied your part well; but if you will take advice from one who knows
something of the world and its ways, I should recommend a lower tone; a
little lower tone, or you stand a fair chance of being starved in good
earnest.'

As he said this, Ralph clenched his left wrist tightly with his right
hand, and inclining his head a little on one side and dropping his chin
upon his breast, looked at him whom he addressed with a frowning, sullen
face. The very picture of a man whom nothing could move or soften.

'Yesterday was my first day in London,' said the old man, glancing at
his travel-stained dress and worn shoes.

'It would have been better for you, I think, if it had been your last
also,' replied Ralph.

'I have been seeking you these two days, where I thought you were most
likely to be found,' resum