. From
Mr Nickleby. Bearer waits.'

'Won't you take a--a--'

Newman looked up, and smacked his lips.

'--A chair?' said Arthur Gride.

'No,' replied Newman. 'Thankee.'

Arthur opened the letter with trembling hands, and devoured its contents
with the utmost greediness; chuckling rapturously over it, and reading
it several times, before he could take it from before his eyes. So
many times did he peruse and re-peruse it, that Newman considered it
expedient to remind him of his presence.

'Answer,' said Newman. 'Bearer waits.'

'True,' replied old Arthur. 'Yes--yes; I almost forgot, I do declare.'

'I thought you were forgetting,' said Newman.

'Quite right to remind me, Mr Noggs. Oh, very right indeed,' said
Arthur. 'Yes. I'll write a line. I'm--I'm--rather flurried, Mr Noggs.
The news is--'

'Bad?' interrupted Newman.

'No, Mr Noggs, thank you; good, good. The very best of news. Sit down.
I'll get the pen and ink, and write a line in answer. I'll not detain
you long. I know you're a treasure to your master, Mr Noggs. He speaks
of you in such terms, sometimes, that, oh dear! you'd be astonished. I
may say that I do too, and always did. I always say the same of you.'

'That's "Curse Mr Noggs with all my heart!" then, if you do,' thought
Newman, as Gride hurried out.

The letter had fallen on the ground. Looking carefully about him for an
instant, Newman, impelled by curiosity to know the result of the design
he had overheard from his office closet, caught it up and rapidly read
as follows:

'GRIDE.

'I saw Bray again this morning, and proposed the day after tomorrow (as
you suggested) for the marriage. There is no objection on his part, and
all days are alike to his daughter. We will go together, and you must be
with me by seven in the morning. I need not tell you to be punctual.

'Make no further visits to the girl in the meantime. You have been
there, of late, much oftener than you should. She does not languish for
you, and it might have been dangerous. Restrain your youthful ardour for
eight-and-forty hours, and leave her to the father. You only undo what
he does, and does well.

'Yours,

'RALPH NICKLEBY.'

A footstep was heard without. Newman dropped the letter on the same spot
again, pressed it with his foot to prevent its fluttering away, regained
his seat in a single stride, and looked as vacant and unconscious as
ever mortal looked. Arthur Gride, after peering nervously about him,
spi