'Door, Matthews!' cried Mr Gregsbury.
The boy beckoned Nicholas, and tumbling lazily downstairs before him,
opened the door, and ushered him into the street. With a sad and pensive
air, he retraced his steps homewards.
Smike had scraped a meal together from the remnant of last night's
supper, and was anxiously awaiting his return. The occurrences of the
morning had not improved Nicholas's appetite, and, by him, the dinner
remained untasted. He was sitting in a thoughtful attitude, with the
plate which the poor fellow had assiduously filled with the choicest
morsels, untouched, by his side, when Newman Noggs looked into the room.
'Come back?' asked Newman.
'Yes,' replied Nicholas, 'tired to death: and, what is worse, might have
remained at home for all the good I have done.'
'Couldn't expect to do much in one morning,' said Newman.
'Maybe so, but I am sanguine, and did expect,' said Nicholas, 'and am
proportionately disappointed.' Saying which, he gave Newman an account
of his proceedings.
'If I could do anything,' said Nicholas, 'anything, however slight,
until Ralph Nickleby returns, and I have eased my mind by confronting
him, I should feel happier.
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