'Bless my heart!' cried Mrs Nickleby, hastily arranging her cap and
front, 'if it should be--dear me, standing in the passage all this
time--why don't you go and ask them to walk up, you stupid thing?'
While the girl was gone on this errand, Mrs Nickleby hastily swept into
a cupboard all vestiges of eating and drinking; which she had scarcely
done, and seated herself with looks as collected as she could assume,
when two gentlemen, both perfect strangers, presented themselves.
'How do you DO?' said one gentleman, laying great stress on the last
word of the inquiry.
'HOW do you do?' said the other gentleman, altering the emphasis, as if
to give variety to the salutation.
Mrs Nickleby curtseyed and smiled, and curtseyed again, and remarked,
rubbing her hands as she did so, that she hadn't the--really--the honour
to--
'To know us,' said the first gentleman. 'The loss has been ours, Mrs
Nickleby. Has the loss been ours, Pyke?'
'It has, Pluck,' answered the other gentleman.
'We have regretted it very often, I believe, Pyke?' said the first
gentleman.
'Very often, Pluck,' answered the second.
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