'Then in Heaven's name, my good friend, tell it me,' said Nicholas. 'For
God's sake consider my deplorable condition; and, while I promise to
take no step without taking counsel with you, give me, at least, a vote
in my own behalf.'

Moved by this entreaty, Newman stammered forth a variety of most
unaccountable and entangled sentences, the upshot of which was, that
Mrs Kenwigs had examined him, at great length that morning, touching
the origin of his acquaintance with, and the whole life, adventures, and
pedigree of, Nicholas; that Newman had parried these questions as
long as he could, but being, at length, hard pressed and driven into a
corner, had gone so far as to admit, that Nicholas was a tutor of
great accomplishments, involved in some misfortunes which he was not at
liberty to explain, and bearing the name of Johnson. That Mrs Kenwigs,
impelled by gratitude, or ambition, or maternal pride, or maternal love,
or all four powerful motives conjointly, had taken secret conference
with Mr Kenwigs, and had finally returned to propose that Mr Johnson
should instruct the four Miss Kenwigses in the French language as spoken
by natives, at the weekly stipend of five shillings, current coin of
the realm; being at the rate of one shilling per week, per each Miss
Kenwigs, and one shilling over, until such time as the baby might be
able to take it out in grammar.

'Which, unless I am very much mistaken,' observed Mrs Kenwigs in making
the proposition, 'will not be very long; for such clever children, Mr
Noggs, never were born into this world, I do believe.'

'There,' said Newman, 'that's all. It's beneath you, I know; but I
thought that perhaps you might--'