'From Sir Mulberry,' replied Pyke. 'You must be very dull here.'
'Rather dull, I confess,' said Mrs Nickleby.
'We bring the compliments of Sir Mulberry Hawk, and a thousand
entreaties that you'll take a seat in a private box at the play
tonight,' said Mr Pluck.
'Oh dear!' said Mrs Nickleby, 'I never go out at all, never.'
'And that is the very reason, my dear Mrs Nickleby, why you should go
out tonight,' retorted Mr Pluck. 'Pyke, entreat Mrs Nickleby.'
'Oh, pray do,' said Pyke.
'You positively must,' urged Pluck.
'You are very kind,' said Mrs Nickleby, hesitating; 'but--'
'There's not a but in the case, my dear Mrs Nickleby,' remonstrated Mr
Pluck; 'not such a word in the vocabulary. Your brother-in-law joins us,
Lord Frederick joins us, Sir Mulberry joins us, Pyke joins us--a refusal
is out of the question. Sir Mulberry sends a carriage for you--twenty
minutes before seven to the moment--you'll not be so cruel as to
disappoint the whole party, Mrs Nickleby?'
'You are so very pressing, that I scarcely know what to say,' replied
the worthy lady.
'Say nothing; not a word, not a word, my dearest madam,' urged Mr Pluck.
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