hy lady, with a prefatory cough, 'that it's a
great relief, under such trying circumstances as these, to have anybody
else mistaken for me--a very great relief; and it's a circumstance that
never occurred before, although I have several times been mistaken for
my daughter Kate. I have no doubt the people were very foolish, and
perhaps ought to have known better, but still they did take me for
her, and of course that was no fault of mine, and it would be very
hard indeed if I was to be made responsible for it. However, in this
instance, of course, I must feel that I should do exceedingly wrong if
I suffered anybody--especially anybody that I am under great obligations
to--to be made uncomfortable on my account. And therefore I think it my
duty to tell that gentleman that he is mistaken, that I am the lady
who he was told by some impertinent person was niece to the Council of
Paving-stones, and that I do beg and entreat of him to go quietly away,
if it's only for,' here Mrs Nickleby simpered and hesitated, 'for MY
sake.'

It might have been expected that the old gentleman would have been
penetrated to the heart by the delicacy and condescension of this
appeal, and that he would at least have returned a courteous and
suitable reply. What, then, was the shock which Mrs Nickleby received,
when, accosting HER in the most unmistakable manner, he replied in a
loud and sonourous voice: 'Avaunt! Cat!'

'Sir!' cried Mrs Nickleby, in a faint tone.

'Cat!' repeated the old gentleman. 'Puss, Kit, Tit, Grimalkin, Tabby,
Brindle! Whoosh!' with which last sound, uttered in a hissing manner
between his teeth, the old gentleman swung his arms violently round and
round, and at the same time alternately advanced on Mrs Nickleby, and
retreated from her, in that species of savage dance with which boys on
market-days may be seen to frighten pigs, sheep, and other animals, when
they give out obstinate indications of turning down a wrong street.

Mrs Nickleby wasted no words, but uttered an exclamation of horror and
surprise, and immediately fainted away.

'I'll attend to mama,' said Kate, hastily; 'I am not at all frightened.
But pray take him away: pray take him away!'

Frank was not at all confident of his power of complying with this
request, until he bethought himself of the stratagem of sending Miss La
Creevy on a few paces in advance, and urging the old gentleman to
follow her. It succeeded to a miracle; and he went away in a raptur