Chapter 41 - Page 2

that night, when I frowned at him? It was a
mercy he didn't emigrate. It very nearly drove him to it.'

Whether the deceased might not have been better off if he had
emigrated in his bachelor days, was a question which his relict did
not stop to consider; for Kate entered the room, with her workbox,
in this stage of her reflections; and a much slighter interruption,
or no interruption at all, would have diverted Mrs Nickleby's
thoughts into a new channel at any time.

'Kate, my dear,' said Mrs Nickleby; 'I don't know how it is, but a
fine warm summer day like this, with the birds singing in every
direction, always puts me in mind of roast pig, with sage and onion
sauce, and made gravy.'

'That's a curious association of ideas, is it not, mama?'

'Upon my word, my dear, I don't know,' replied Mrs Nickleby. 'Roast
pig; let me see. On the day five weeks after you were christened,
we had a roast--no, that couldn't have been a pig, either, because I
recollect there were a pair of them to carve, and your poor papa and
I could never have thought of sitting down to two pigs--they must
have been partridges. Roast pig! I hardly think we ever could have
had one, now I come to remember, for your papa could never bear the
sight of them in the shops, and used to say that they always put him
in mind of very little babies, only the pigs had much fairer
complexions; and he had a horror of little babies, to, because he
couldn't very well afford any increase to his family, and had a
natural dislike to the subject. It's very odd now, what can have
put that in my head! I recollect dining once at Mrs Bevan's, in
that broad street round the corner by the coachmaker's, where the
tipsy man fell through the cellar-flap of an empty house nearly a
week before the quarter-day, and wasn't found till the new tenant
went in--and we had roast pig there. It must be that, I think, that
reminds me of it, especially as there was a little bird in the room
that would keep on singing all the time of dinner--at least, not a
little bird, for it was a parrot, and he didn't sing exactly, for he
talked and swore dreadfully: but I think it must be that. Indeed I
am sure it must. Shouldn't you say so, my dear?'

'I should say there was not a doubt about it, mama,' returned Kate,
with a cheerful smile.

'No; but DO you think so, Kate?' said Mrs Nickleby, with as much
gravity as if it were a question of the most imminent and thrilling
interest. 'If you don't, say so at once, you know; because it's
just as well to be correct, particularly on a point of this kind,
which is very curious and worth settling while one thinks about it.'

Kate laughingly replied that she was quite convinced; and as her
mama still appeared