the most elegant and costly manner. Sir Mulberry was a little hoarser than on the previous day, and Lord Verisopht looked rather sleepy and queer; from which tokens, as well as from the circumstance of their both being to a trifling extent unsteady upon their legs, Mrs. Nickleby justly concluded that they had taken dinner.
"We have been—we have been—toasting your lovely daughter, Mrs. Nickleby," whispered Sir Mulberry, sitting down behind her.
"Oh, ho!" thought that knowing lady; "wine in; truth out.—You are very kind. Sir Mulberry."
"No, no, upon my soul!" replied Sir Mulberry Hawk. "It's you that's kind, upon my soul it is. It was so kind of you to come to-night."
"So very kind of you to invite me, you mean. Sir Mulberry," replied Mrs. Nickleby, tossing her head, and looking prodigiously sly.
"I am so anxious to know you, so anxious to cultivate your good opinion, so desirous that there should be a delicious kind of harmonious family understanding between us," said Sir Mulberry, "that you mustn't think I'm disinterested in what I do. I'm infernal selfish; I am—upon my soul I am."
"I am sure you can't be selfish, Sir Mulberry!" replied Mrs. Nickleby. "You have much too open and generous a countenance for that."
"What an extraordinary observer you are!" said Sir Mulberry Hawk.
"Oh no, indeed, I don't see very far into things. Sir Mulberry," replied Mrs. Nickleby, in a tone of voice which left the baronet to infer that she saw very far indeed.
"I am quite afraid of you," said the baronet. "Upon my soul," repeated Sir Mulberry, looking round to his companions; "I am afraid of Mrs. Nickleby. She is so immensely sharp."
Messrs. Pyke and Pluck shook their heads mysteriously, and observed together that they had found that out long ago; upon which Mrs. Nickleby tittered, and Sir Mulberry laughed, and Pyke and Pluck roared.
"But where's my brother-in-law, Sir Mulberry?" inquired Mrs. Nickleby. "I shouldn't be here without him. I hope he's coming."
"Pyke," said Sir Mulberry, taking out his tooth-pick and lolling back in his chair, as if he were too lazy to invent a reply to this question. "Where's Ralph Nickleby?"
"Pluck," said Pyke, imitating the baronet's action, and turning the lie over to his friend, "where's Ralph Nickleby?"
Mr, Pluck was about to return some evasive reply, when the bustle caused by a party entering the next box seemed to attract the attention of all four gentlemen, who exchanged glances of much meaning. The new party beginning to converse together. Sir Mulberry suddenly assumed the character of a most attentive listener, and implored his friends not to breathe—not to breathe.
"Why not?" said Mrs. Nickleby. "What is the matter?"
"Hush!" replied Sir Mulberry, laying his hand on her arm, "Lord Frederick, do you recognize the tones of that voice?"
