by the incomprehensible allusion to the young noblemen
under his tuition.

'Look here, sir,' said Ralph; 'I'll put this matter in its true light in
two seconds.'

'If you'll have the goodness,' rejoined Squeers.

'This is a boy, or a youth, or a lad, or a young man, or a hobbledehoy,
or whatever you like to call him, of eighteen or nineteen, or
thereabouts,' said Ralph.

'That I see,' observed the schoolmaster.

'So do I,' said Mr Snawley, thinking it as well to back his new friend
occasionally.

'His father is dead, he is wholly ignorant of the world, has no
resources whatever, and wants something to do,' said Ralph. 'I recommend
him to this splendid establishment of yours, as an opening which will
lead him to fortune if he turns it to proper account. Do you see that?'

'Everybody must see that,' replied Squeers, half imitating the sneer
with which the old gentleman was regarding his unconscious relative.

'I do, of course,' said Nicholas, eagerly.

'He does, of course, you observe,' said Ralph, in the same dry, hard
manner. 'If any caprice of temper should induce him to cast aside this
golden opportunity before he has brought it to perfection, I consider
myself absolved from extending any assistance to his mother and sister.
Look at him, and think of the use he may be to you in half-a-dozen ways!
Now, the question is, whether, for some time to come at all events, he
won't serve your purpose better than twenty of the kind of people
you would get under ordinary circumstances. Isn't that a question for
consideration?'

'Yes, it is,' said Squeers, answering a nod of Ralph's head with a nod
of his own.

'Good,' rejoined Ralph. 'Let me have two words with you.'

The two words were had apart; in a couple of minutes Mr Wackford Squeers
announced that Mr Nicholas Nickleby was, from that moment, thoroughly
nominated to, and installed in, the office of first assistant master at
Dotheboys Hall.

'Your uncle's recommendation has done it, Mr Nickleby,' said Wackford
Squeers.

Nicholas, overjoyed at his success, shook his uncle's hand warmly, and
could almost have worshipped Squeers upon the spot.

'He is an odd-looking man,' thought Nicholas. 'What of that? Porson was
an odd-looking man, and so was Doctor Johnson; all these bookworms are.'

'At eight o'clock tomorrow morning, Mr Nickleby,' said Squeers, 'the
coach starts. You must be here at a quarter before, as we take these
boys with us.'

'Certainly, sir,'