This appeal set the widow upon thinking that perhaps she might have made
a more successful venture with her one thousand pounds, and then she
began to reflect what a comfortable sum it would have been just then;
which dismal thoughts made her tears flow faster, and in the excess of
these griefs she (being a well-meaning woman enough, but weak withal)
fell first to deploring her hard fate, and then to remarking, with many
sobs, that to be sure she had been a slave to poor Nicholas, and had
often told him she might have married better (as indeed she had, very
often), and that she never knew in his lifetime how the money went, but
that if he had confided in her they might all have been better off that
day; with other bitter recollections common to most married ladies,
either during their coverture, or afterwards, or at both periods. Mrs
Nickleby concluded by lamenting that the dear departed had never deigned
to profit by her advice, save on one occasion; which was a strictly
veracious statement, inasmuch as he had only acted upon it once, and had
ruined himself in consequence.

Mr Ralph Nickleby heard all this with a half-smile; and when the widow
had finished, quietly took up the subject where it had been left before
the above outbreak.

'Are you willing to work, sir?' he inquired, frowning on his nephew.

'Of course I am,' replied Nicholas haughtily.

'Then see here, sir,' said his uncle. 'This caught my eye this morning,
and you may thank your stars for it.'

With this exordium, Mr Ralph Nickleby took a newspaper from his