inquired Nicholas.

'Very bad,' said the landlord. As of course, being a landlord, he would
say.

'I want to get on,' observed Nicholas, hesitating. 'I scarcely know what
to do.'

'Don't let me influence you,' rejoined the landlord. 'I wouldn't go on
if it was me.'

'Wouldn't you?' asked Nicholas, with the same uncertainty.

'Not if I knew when I was well off,' said the landlord. And having said
it he pulled up his apron, put his hands into his pockets, and, taking
a step or two outside the door, looked down the dark road with an
assumption of great indifference.

A glance at the toil-worn face of Smike determined Nicholas, so without
any further consideration he made up his mind to stay where he was.

The landlord led them into the kitchen, and as there was a good fire he
remarked that it was very cold. If there had happened to be a bad one he
would have observed that it was very warm.

'What can you give us for supper?' was Nicholas's natural question.

'Why--what would you like?' was the landlord's no less natural answer.

Nicholas suggested cold meat, but there was no cold meat--poached eggs,
but there were no eggs--mutton chops, but there wasn't a mutton chop
within three miles, though there had been more last week than they knew
what to do with, and would be an extraordinary supply the day after
tomorrow.

'Then,' said Nicholas, 'I must leave it entirely to you, as I would have
done, at first, if you had allowed me.'

'Why, then I'll tell you what,' rejoined the landlord. 'There's a
gentleman in the parlour that's ordered a hot beef-steak pudding and
potatoes, at nine. There's more of it than he can manage, and I have
very little doubt that if I ask leave, you can sup with him. I'll do
that, in a minute.'

'No, no,' said Nicholas, detaining him. 'I would rather not. I--at
least--pshaw! why cannot I speak out? Here; you see that I am travelling
in a very humble manner, and have made my way hither on foot. It is more
than probable, I think, that the gentleman may not relish my company;
and although I am the dusty figure you see, I am too proud to thrust
myself into his.'

'Lord love you,' said the landlord, 'it's only Mr Crummles; HE isn't
particular.'

'Is he not?' asked Nicholas, on whose mind, to tell the truth, the
prospect of the savoury pudding was making some impression.

'Not he,' replied the landlord. 'He'll like your way of talking, I know.
But we'll soon see all about that. Just wait