Nickleby, is it?'

'Yes,' replied Kate.

'You're to walk upstairs then, please,' said the man. 'Madame Mantalini
wants to see you--this way--take care of these things on the floor.'

Cautioning her, in these terms, not to trip over a heterogeneous litter
of pastry-cook's trays, lamps, waiters full of glasses, and piles of
rout seats which were strewn about the hall, plainly bespeaking a late
party on the previous night, the man led the way to the second story,
and ushered Kate into a back-room, communicating by folding-doors
with the apartment in which she had first seen the mistress of the
establishment.

'If you'll wait here a minute,' said the man, 'I'll tell her presently.'
Having made this promise with much affability, he retired and left Kate
alone.

There was not much to amuse in the room; of which the most attractive
feature was, a half-length portrait in oil, of Mr Mantalini, whom the
artist had depicted scratching his head in an easy manner, and thus
displaying to advantage a diamond ring, the gift of Madame Mantalini
before her marriage. There was, however, the sound of voices in
conversation in the next room; and as the conversation was loud and the
partition thin, Kate could not help discovering that they belonged to Mr
and Mrs Mantalini.

'If you will be odiously, demnebly, outrIgeously jealous, my soul,' said
Mr Mantalini, 'you will be very miserable--horrid miserable--demnition