Nicholas Nickleby Page #3

That's cause for joy.

And here's more cause for joy.

Little Wackford.

Father!

Look what your pa brought you.

"Dear Kate...

"My first morning here began with the news | that the pump had frozen...

"but events soon distracted me. "

- Smike! | - Who are you after?

It's brimstone morning, | and I can't find the school spoon.

We purify the boys' blood | now and then, Nickleby.

Purify, fiddlesticks!

We give the boys brimstone and treacle, | Mr. Knuckleboy...

because if we didn't, | they'd always be ailing.

It spoils their appetites and comes cheaper | than breakfast and dinner.

You might say it does them good | and us good at the same time.

Smike!

- Where's the school spoon? | - Please, ma'am.

Please.

Don't contradict your mistress.

Take it.

Take it. Be thankful.

A most invaluable woman that. | I don't know her equal.

Nor I.

- No, please! | - Take it.

And thank me for it.

She does things for them boys...

that I don't believe half the mothers going | would do for their own sons.

- I should think they would not, sir. | - No.

"Mr. Squeers' return from London | is a great event...

"as he brings the boys news from home. "

Bolder, come here.

No letters.

But I saw your father in London.

He was 2.10 short in his payments.

One...

two, three...

- Four... | - Five, six.

But the good news is, we'll keep you on. | Smike, take him out.

Letter for Cobbey. Stand up.

Your grandmother's dead.

Your uncle's took to drink.

That's all the news your sister sends, | except for eight pence...

which will just cover the square of glass | you broke last week.

"After this, classes began. "

Where's Graymarsh?

Please, sir, he's cleaning | the back parlor window.

Perfect. C-L-E-A-N, "clean."

Verb, active, "to make bright."

"Winder," a casement.

"Win":
W-l-N, "der": D-E-R.

When the boy knows this, | he goes and does it.

Where's Dorn?

- Please, sir, he's weeding the garden. | - To be sure.

"Bot":
B-O-T, "tin": T-l-N, "ney": N-E-Y.

"Bottiney." Noun, substantive.

Knowledge of plants, | which he's applying right now.

That's our system, Nickleby. | What do you think of it?

It's useful.

"And so went the day.

"I very much hope I can be of service here. "

Are you cold?

You're shivering, poor fellow.

There.

Oh, dear, my heart.

I feel lost here, too.

But we must always hope.

Hope?

Do you remember the boy who died here?

I was not here.

What of him?

I was with him that night.

He began to see faces around his bed | that came from home.

He said they smiled and talked to him.

At last, he died...

lifting his head to kiss them.

Yes?

What faces will smile on me when I die?

Who will comfort me that long night?

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