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Mr Nickleby walked straight past the servant girl into the hall of the house and quickly up the stairs. On the first floor he met a small, bird-like, middle- aged woman wearing black gloves and a yellow cloth tied around her head.
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Nicholas searched among the trees, but there was no one there. 'You were dreaming,' he said when he returned.
'Yes, he is, Mr Cheeryble,' replied the old clerk, looking at Nicholas over the top of his glasses.

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'Why do you say "if", Mother?' Kate asked. 'You know he's innocent.'


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'Yes, sir, and dogs and cats,' Ralph replied, sitting down. 'You didn't say in your letter how my brother died, ma'am.'
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As Kate ran across the road to hire a coach, Ralph called from the doorway, 'Leave the girl here!'
Nicholas, of course, agreed to help at once.
'Not at all,' Tilda replied. 'I'm in an excellent mood. I was thinking that you seemed unusually boring tonight.'
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'I'm as poor and lonely as you are,' Nicholas said. 'How can I help you?'

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'Is Mrs Nickleby at home?' he demanded.



'I'm not here for a painting, madam,' Mr Nickleby replied impatiently. 'I'm looking for a Mrs Nickleby. Is she here?'
A week after the interview, Kate moved all her things to Mrs Wititterly's house and started work.
'That will be too late,' Nicholas replied.

'You refuse?' said Ralph. 'Then you must listen to me.'



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'If that's true, ring the bell. Tell the servant to get me a newspaper, some fresh fruit and a bottle of wine!'

'What s her name?' Ralph asked, staring at Gride coldly.
When he reached home, he sat alone in his room with his head in his hands. He had been blinded by his hate for Nicholas, and had murdered his own child! He could not believe it. He had tried to destroy the only person in the world who had shown his son love. What good was all his money now?