'I wonder who's got that spice-box,' said Mrs Nickleby, shaking her
head. 'It used to stand in the left-hand corner, next but two to the
pickled onions. You remember that spice-box, Kate?'
'Perfectly well, mama.'
'I shouldn't think you did, Kate,' returned Mrs Nickleby, in a severe
manner, 'talking about it in that cold and unfeeling way! If there
is any one thing that vexes me in these losses more than the losses
themselves, I do protest and declare,' said Mrs Nickleby, rubbing her
nose with an impassioned air, 'that it is to have people about me who
take things with such provoking calmness.'
'My dear mama,' said Kate, stealing her arm round her mother's neck,
'why do you say what I know you cannot seriously mean or think, or why
be angry with me for being happy and content? You and Nicholas are left
to me, we are together once again, and what regard can I have for a few
trifling things of which we never feel the want? When I have seen all
the misery and desolation that death can bring, and known the lonesome
feeling of being solitary and alone in crowds, and all the agony of
separation in grief and poverty when we most needed comfort and support
from each other, can you wonder that I look upon this as a place of such
delicious quiet and rest, that with you beside me I have nothing to
wish for or regret? There was a time, and not long since, when all
the comforts of our old home did come back upon me, I own, very
often--oftener than you would think perhaps--but I affected to care
nothing for them, in the hope that you would so be brought to regret
them the less.
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