 vilified by Nicholas; rudely
stigmatised as a dotard and an idiot; and for these attacks upon his
understanding, Mrs. Nickleby was, in some sort, accountable. She might have felt
that it was the act of a good Christian to show, by all means in her power, that
the abused gentleman was neither the one nor the other. And what better means
could she adopt, towards so virtuous and laudable an end, than proving to all
men, in her own person, that his passion was the most rational and reasonable in
the world, and just the very result, of all others, which discreet and thinking
persons might have foreseen, from her incautiously displaying her matured
charms, without reserve, under the very eye, as it were, of an ardent and
too-susceptible man?
    »Ah!« said Mrs. Nickleby, gravely shaking her head; »if Nicholas knew what
his poor dear papa suffered before we were engaged, when I used to hate him, he
would have a little more feeling. Shall I ever forget the morning I looked
scornfully at him when he offered to carry my parasol? Or 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 work-box, 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
