conversation were, for the time, annihilated.

'Well, Miss Nickleby, child,' said Madame Mantalini, when Kate presented
herself; 'are you quite well again?'

'A great deal better, thank you,' replied Kate.

'I wish I could say the same,' remarked Madame Mantalini, seating
herself with an air of weariness.

'Are you ill?' asked Kate. 'I am very sorry for that.'

'Not exactly ill, but worried, child--worried,' rejoined Madame.

'I am still more sorry to hear that,' said Kate, gently. 'Bodily illness
is more easy to bear than mental.'

'Ah! and it's much easier to talk than to bear either,' said Madame,
rubbing her nose with much irritability of manner. 'There, get to your
work, child, and put the things in order, do.'

While Kate was wondering within herself what these symptoms of unusual
vexation portended, Mr Mantalini put the tips of his whiskers, and, by
degrees, his head, through the half-opened door, and cried in a soft
voice--

'Is my life and soul there?'

'No,' replied his wife.