"What do you mean?" said Nicholas; "I am not one to keep company at all—here at all events. I can't make this out."
"No, nor I neither," rejoined Miss Price; "but men are always fickle, and always were, and always will be; that I can make out, very easily."
"Fickle!" cried Nicholas; "what do you suppose? You don't mean to say that you think——"
"Oh no, I think nothing at all," retorted Miss Price pettishly. "Look at her, dressed so beautiful and looking so well—really almost handsome. I am ashamed at you."
"My dear girl, what have I got to do with her dressing beautifully or looking well?" inquired Nicholas.
"Come, don't call me a dear girl," said Miss Price—smiling a little though, for she was pretty, and a coquette too in her small way, and Nicholas was good-looking, and she supposed him the property of somebody else, which were all reasons why she should be gratified to think she had made an impression on him, "or Fanny will be saying it's my fault. Come; we're going to have a game at cards." Pronouncing these last words aloud, she tripped away and rejoined the big Yorkshireman.
This was wholly unintelligible to Nicholas, who had no other distinct impression on his mind at the moment, than that Miss Squeers was an ordinary-looking girl, and her friend Miss Price a pretty one; but he had not time to enlighten himself by reflection, for the hearth being by this time swept up, and the candle snuffed, they sat down to play speculation.
"There are only four of us, 'Tilda," said Miss Squeers, looking slyly at Nicholas; "so we had better go partners, two against two."
"What do you say, Mr. Nickleby?" inquired Miss Price.
"With all the pleasure in life," replied Nicholas. And so saying, quite unconscious of his heinous offence, he amalgamated into one common heap those portions of a Dotheboys Hall card of terms, which represented his own counters, and those allotted to Miss Price, respectively.
"Mr. Browdie," said Miss Squeers hysterically, "shall we make a bank against them?"
The Yorkshireman assented—apparently quite overwhelmed by the new usher's impudence—and Miss Squeers darted a spiteful look at her friend, and giggled convulsively.
The deal fell to Nicholas, and the hand prospered.
"We intend to win every thing," said he.
"'Tilda has won something she didn't expect I think, haven't you, dear? " said Miss Squeers, maliciously.
"Only a dozen and eight, love," replied Miss Price, affecting to take the question in a literal sense.
"How dull you are to-night!" sneered Miss Squeers.
"No, indeed," replied Miss Price, "I am in excellent spirits. I was thinking you seemed out of sorts."
"Me!" cried Miss Squeers, biting her lips, and trembling with very jealousy; "Oh no!"
"That's well," remarked Miss Price. "Your hair's coming out of curl, dear."
