and wear it like a christian, instead of sticking it upon the very top of your head like a blue-coat boy; you needn't think it an unmanly or quizzical thing to be particular about your night-cap, for I have often heard your poor dear papa, and the reverend Mr. what's his name, who used to read prayers in that old church with the curious little steeple that the weathercock was blown off the night week before you were born, I have often heard them say, that the young men at college are uncommonly particular about their nightcaps, and that the Oxford nightcaps are quite celebrated for their strength and goodness; so much so, indeed, that the young men never dream of going to bed without 'em, and I believe it's admitted on all hands that they know what's good, and don't coddle themselves."
Nicholas laughed, and entering no further into the subject of this lengthened harangue, reverted to the pleasant tone of the little birth-day party. And as Mrs. Nickleby instantly became very curious respecting it, and made a great number of inquiries touching what they had had for dinner, and how it was put on table, and whether it was overdone or underdone, and who was there, and what "the Mr. Cherrybles" said, and what Nicholas said, and what the Mr. Cherrybles said when he said that; Nicholas described the festivities at full length, and also the occurrences of the morning.
"Late as it is," said Nicholas, "I am almost selfish enough to wish that Kate had been up; to hear all this. I was all impatience, as I came along, to tell her."
"Why, Kate" said Mrs. Nickleby, putting her feet upon the fender, and drawing her chair close to it, as if settling herself for a long talk. "Kate has been in bed—oh! a couple of hours—and I'm very glad, Nicholas my dear, that I prevailed upon her not to sit up, for I wished very much to have an opportunity of saying a few words to you. I am naturally anxious about it, and of course it's a very delightful and consoling thing to have a grown-up son that one can put confidence in, and advise with—indeed I don't know any use there would be in having sons at all, unless people could put confidence in them."
Nicholas stopped in the middle of a sleepy yawn, as his mother began to speak, and looked at her with fixed attention.
"There was a lady in our neighbourhood," said Mrs. Nickleby, "speaking of sons puts me in mind of it—a lady in our neighbourhood when we lived near Dawlish, I think her name was Rogers; indeed I am sure it was if it wasn't Murphy, which is the only doubt I have—"
"Is it about her, mother, that you wished to speak to me?" said Nicholas, quietly.
"About her!" cried Mrs. Nickleby. "Good gracious, Nicholas, my dear, how can you be so ridiculous? But that was always the way with your poor dear papa,—just his way, always wandering, never able to fix his thoughts on any one subject for two minutes together. I think I see him now!" said Mrs. Nickleby, wiping her eyes, "looking at me while I was talking to him about his affairs, just as if his ideas
