“My dear Nickleby,” said the gentleman, taking off a white hat which was so full of papers that it would scarcely stick upon his head, “there’s not a moment to lose; I have a cab at the door. Sir Matthew Pupker takes the chair, and three members of Parliament are positively coming. I have seen two of them safely out of bed. The third, who was at Crockford’s all night, has just gone home to put a clean shirt on, and take a bottle or two of soda water, and will certainly be with us, in time to address the meeting. He is a little excited by last night, but never mind that; he always speaks the stronger for it.”
“It seems to promise pretty well,” said Mr. Ralph Nickleby, whose deliberate manner was strongly opposed to the vivacity of the other man of business.
“Pretty well!” echoed Mr. Bonney. “It’s the finest idea that was ever started. ‘United Metropolitan Improved Hot Muffin and Crumpet Baking and Punctual Delivery Company. Capital, five millions, in five hundred thousand shares of ten pounds each.’ Why the very name will get the shares up to a premium in ten days.”
“And when they are at a premium,” said Mr. Ralph Nickleby, smiling.
“When they are, you know what to do with them as well as any man alive, and how to back quietly out at the right time,” said Mr. Bonney, slapping the capitalist familiarly on the shoulder. “By the by, what a very remarkable man that clerk of yours is.”
“Yes, poor devil!” replied Ralph, drawing on his gloves. “Though Newman Noggs kept his horses and hounds once.”
“Ay, ay?” said the other carelessly.
“Yes,” continued Ralph, “and not many years ago either; but he squandered his money, invested it anyhow, borrowed at interest, and in short made first a thorough fool of himself, and then a beggar. He took to drinking, and had a touch of paralysis, and then came here to borrow a pound, as in his better days I had—”
“Done business with him,” said Mr. Bonney with a meaning look.
“Just so,” replied Ralph; “I couldn’t lend it, you know.”
“Oh, of course not.”
“But as I wanted a clerk just then, to open the door and so forth, I took him out of charity, and he has remained with me ever since. He is a little mad, I think,” said Mr. Nickleby, calling up a charitable look, “but he is useful enough, poor creature—useful enough.”
The kindhearted gentleman omitted to add that Newman Noggs, being utterly destitute, served him for rather less than the usual wages of a boy of thirteen; and likewise failed to mention in his hasty chronicle, that his eccentric taciturnity rendered him an especially valuable person in a place where much business was done, of which it was desirable no mention should be made out of doors. The other gentleman was plainly impatient to be gone, however, and as they hurried into the hackney cabriolet immediately afterwards, perhaps Mr. Nickleby forgot to mention circumstances so unimportant.
There was a great bustle in Bishopsgate Street Within, as they drew up, and (it being a windy day) half-a-dozen men were tacking across the road under a press of paper, bearing gigantic announcements that a Public Meeting would be holden at one o’clock precisely, to take into consideration the propriety of petitioning Parliament in favour of the United Metropolitan Improved Hot Muffin and Crumpet Baking and Punctual Delivery Company, capital five millions, in five hundred thousand shares of ten pounds each; which sums were duly set forth in fat black figures of considerable size. Mr. Bonney elbowed his way briskly upstairs, receiving in his progress many low bows from the waiters who stood on the landings to show the way; and, followed by Mr. Nickleby, dived into a suite of apartments behind the great public room: in the second of which was a business-looking table, and several business-looking people.
“Hear!” cried a gentleman with a double chin, as Mr. Bonney presented himself. “Chair, gentlemen, chair!”
The newcomers were received with universal approbation, and Mr. Bonney bustled up to the top of the table, took off his hat, ran his fingers through his hair, and knocked a hackney-coachman’s knock on the table with a little hammer: whereat several gentlemen cried “Hear!” and nodded slightly to each other, as much as to say what spirited conduct that was. Just at this moment, a waiter, feverish with agitation, tore into the room, and throwing the door open with a crash, shouted “Sir Matthew Pupker!”
The committee stood up and clapped their hands for joy, and while they were clapping them, in came Sir Matthew Pupker, attended by two live members of Parliament, one Irish and one Scotch, all smiling and bowing, and looking so pleasant that it seemed a perfect marvel how any man could have the heart to vote against them. Sir Matthew Pupker especially, who had a little round head with a flaxen wig on the top of it, fell into such a paroxysm of bows, that the wig threatened to be jerked off, every instant. When these symptoms had in some degree subsided, the gentlemen who were on speaking terms with Sir Matthew Pupker, or the two other members, crowded round them in three little groups, near one or other of which the gentlemen who were not on speaking terms with Sir Matthew Pupker or the two other members, stood lingering, and smiling, and rubbing their hands, in the desperate hope of something turning up which might bring them into notice. All this time, Sir Matthew Pupker and the two other members were relating to their separate circles what the intentions of government were, about taking up the bill; with a full
