delay.

'Nobody YOU know,' said Ralph. 'Step into the office, my--my--dear. I'll
be with you directly.'

'Nobody I know!' cried Sir Mulberry Hawk, advancing to the astonished
lady. 'Is this Mrs Nickleby--the mother of Miss Nickleby--the delightful
creature that I had the happiness of meeting in this house the very last
time I dined here? But no;' said Sir Mulberry, stopping short. 'No, it
can't be. There is the same cast of features, the same indescribable air
of--But no; no. This lady is too young for that.'

'I think you can tell the gentleman, brother-in-law, if it concerns
him to know,' said Mrs Nickleby, acknowledging the compliment with a
graceful bend, 'that Kate Nickleby is my daughter.'

'Her daughter, my lord!' cried Sir Mulberry, turning to his friend.
'This lady's daughter, my lord.'

'My lord!' thought Mrs Nickleby. 'Well, I never did--'

'This, then, my lord,' said Sir Mulberry, 'is the lady to whose obliging
marriage we owe so much happiness. This lady is the mother of sweet
Miss Nickleby. Do you observe the extraordinary likeness, my lord?
Nickleby--introduce us.'

Ralph did so, in a kind of desperation.

'Upon my soul, it's a most delightful thing,' said Lord Frederick,
pressing forward. 'How de do?'

Mrs Nickleby was too much flurried by these uncommonly kind salutations,
and her regrets at not having on her other bonnet, to make any immediate
reply, so she merely continued to bend and smile, and betray great
agitation.

'A--and how is Miss Nickleby?' said Lord Frederick. 'Well, I hope?'

'She is quite well, I'm obliged to you, my lord,' returned Mrs Nickleby,
recovering. 'Quite well. She wasn't well for some days after that day
she dined here, and I can't help thinking, that she caught cold in that
hackney coach coming home. Hackney coaches, my lord, are such nasty
things, that it's almost better to walk at any time, for although I
believe a hackney coachman can be transported for life, if he has a
broken window, still they are so reckless, that they nearly all have
broken windows. I once had a swelled face for six weeks, my lord, from
riding in a hackney coach--I think it was a hackney coach,' said Mrs
Nickleby reflecting, 'though I'm not quite certain whether it wasn't
a chariot; at all events I know it was a dark green, with a very long
number, beginning with a nought and ending with a nine--no, beginning
with a nine, and ending with a nought, that was it, and of course the
stamp-off