"A milliner!" cried Mrs. Nickleby.
"A milliner and dress-maker, ma'am," replied Ralph. "Dress-makers in London, as I need not remind you, ma'am, who are so well acquainted with all matters in the ordinary routine of life, make large fortunes, keep equipages, and become persons of great wealth and fortune."
Now, the first ideas called up in Mrs. Nickleby’s mind by the words milliner and dress-maker were connected with certain wicker baskets lined with black oilskin, which she remembered to have seen carried to and fro in the streets, but as Ralph proceeded these disappeared, and were replaced by visions of large houses at the West End, neat private carriages, and a banker's book, all of which images succeeded each other with such rapidity, that he had no sooner finished speaking than she nodded her head and said, "Very true," with great appearance of satisfaction.
"What your uncle says is very true, Kate, my dear," said Mrs. Nickleby. "I recollect when your poor papa and I came to town after we were married, that a young lady brought me home a chip cottage bonnet, with white and green trimming, and green persian lining, in her own carriage, which drove up to the door full gallop;—at least, I am not quite certain whether it was her own carriage or a hackney chariot, but I remember very well that the horse dropped down dead as he was turning round, and that your poor papa said he hadn't had any corn for a fortnight."
This anecdote, so strikingly illustrative of the opulence of milliners, was not received with any great demonstration of feeling, inasmuch as Kate hung down her head while it was relating, and Ralph manifested very intelligible symptoms of extreme impatience.
"The lady's name," said Ralph, hastily striking in, "is Mantalini—Madame Mantalini. I know her. She lives near Cavendish Square. If your daughter is disposed to try after the situation, I'll take her there directly."
"Have you nothing to say to your uncle, my love?" inquired Mrs. Nickleby.
"A great deal," replied Kate; "but not now. I would rather speak to him when we are alone;—it will save his time if I thank him and say what I wish to say to him as we walk along."
With these words Kate hurried away, to hide the traces of emotion that were stealing down her face, and to prepare herself for the walk, while Mrs. Nickleby amused her brother-in-law by giving him, with many tears, a detailed account of the dimensions of a rosewood cabinet piano they had possessed in their days of affluence, together with a minute description of eight drawing-room chairs with turned legs and green chintz squabs to match the curtains, which had cost two pounds fifteen shillings a-piece, and went at the sale for a mere nothing.
These reminiscences were at length cut short by Kate's return in her walking dress, when Ralph, who had been fretting and fuming during the whole time of her absence, lost no time, and used very little ceremony, in descending into the street.
"Now," he said, taking her arm, "walk as fast as you can, and you'll get into the step that you'll have to walk to business with every
