This remarkable appearance was succeeded by another of a precisely similar description; then a fine vegetable marrow, of unusually large dimensions, was seen to whirl aloft, and come toppling down; then, several cucumbers shot up together; and, finally, the air was darkened by a shower of onions, turnip-radishes, and other small vegetables, which fell rolling and scattering, and bumping about, in all directions.
As Kate rose from her seat, in some alarm, and caught her mother's hand to run with her into the house, she felt herself rather retarded than assisted in her intention; and following the direction of Mrs Nickleby's eyes, was quite terrified by the apparition of an old black velvet cap, which, by slow degrees, as if its wearer were ascending a ladder or pair of steps, rose above the wall dividing their garden from that of the next cottage, (which, like their own, was a detached building,) and was gradually followed by a very large head, and an old face, in which were a pair of most extraordinary grey eyes: very wild, very wide open, and rolling in their sockets, with a dull, languishing, leering look, most ugly to behold.
`Mamma!' cried Kate, really terrified for the moment, `why do you stop, why do you lose an instant?--Mamma, pray come in!'
`Kate, my dear,' returned her mother, still holding back, `how can you be so foolish? I'm ashamed of you. How do you suppose you are ever to get through life, if you're such a coward as this? What do you want, sir?'
said Mrs Nickleby, addressing the intruder with a sort of simpering displeasure.
`How dare you look into this garden?'
`Queen of my soul,' replied the stranger, folding his hands together, `this goblet sip!'
`Nonsense, sir,' said Mrs Nickleby. `Kate, my love, pray be quiet.'
`Won't you sip the goblet?' urged the stranger, with his head imploringly on one side, and his right hand on his breast. `Oh, do sip the goblet!'
`I shall not consent to do anything of the kind, sir,' said Mrs Nickleby.
`Pray, begone.'
`Why is it,' said the old gentleman, coming up a step higher, and leaning his elbows on the wall, with as much complacency as if he were looking out of window, `why is it that beauty is always obdurate, even when admiration is as honourable and respectful as mine?' Here he smiled, kissed his hand, and made several low bows. `Is it owing to the bees, who, when the honey season is over, and they are supposed to have been killed with brimstone, in reality fly to Barbary and lull the captive Moors to sleep with their drowsy songs? Or is it,' he added, dropping his voice almost to a whisper, `in consequence of the statue at Charing Cross having been lately seen, on the Stock Exchange at midnight, walking arm-in-arm with the Pump from Aldgate, in a riding-habit?'
`Mamma,' murmured Kate, `do you hear him?'
`Hush, my dear!' replied Mrs Nickleby, in the same tone of voice, `he is very polite, and I think that was a quotation from the poets. Pray, don't worry me so--you'll pinch my arm black and blue. Go away, sir!'
`Quite away?' said the gentleman, with a languishing look. `Oh! quite away?'
`Yes,' returned Mrs Nickleby, `certainly. You have no business here.
This is private property, sir; you ought to know that.'
`I do know,' said the old gentleman, laying his finger on his nose, with an air of familiarity, most reprehensible, `that this is a sacred and enchanted spot, where the most divine charms'--here he kissed his hand and bowed again--`waft mellifluousness over the neighbours' gardens, and force the fruit and vegetables into premature existence. That fact I am acquainted with. But will you permit me, fairest creature, to ask you one question, in the absence of the planet Venus, who has gone on business to the Horse Guards, and would otherwise--jealous of your superior charms--interpose between us?'
`Kate,' observed Mrs Nickleby, turning to her daughter, `it's very awkward, positively. I really don't know what to say to this gentleman. One ought to be civil, you know.'
`Dear mamma,' rejoined Kate, `don't say a word to him, but let us run away as fast as we can, and shut ourselves up till Nicholas comes home.'
Mrs Nickleby looked very grand, not to say contemptuous, at this humiliating proposal; and, turning to the old gentleman, who had watched them during these whispers with absorbing eagerness, said--`If you will conduct yourself, sir, like the gentleman I should imagine you to be, from your language and--and--appearance, (quite the counterpart of your grandpapa, Kate, my dear, in his best days,) and will put your question to me in plain words, I will answer it.'
If Mrs Nickleby's excellent papa had borne, in his best days, a resemblance to the neighbour now looking over the wall, he must have been, to say the least, a very queer-looking old gentleman in his prime. Perhaps Kate thought so, for she ventured to glance at his living portrait with some attention, as he took off his black velvet cap, and, exhibiting a perfectly bald head, made a long series of bows, each accompanied with a fresh kiss of the hand.
After exhausting himself, to all appearance, with this fatiguing performance, he covered his head once more, pulled the cap very carefully over the tips of his ears, and resuming his former attitude, said, `The question is--'
Here he broke off to look round in every direction, and satisfy himself beyond all doubt that there were no listeners near. Assured that there were not, he tapped his nose several times, accompanying the action with a cunning look, as though congratulating himself on his caution; and stretching out his neck, said in a loud whisper, `Are you a princess?'
`You are mocking me, sir,' replied Mrs Nickleby, making a feint of retreating towards the house.
`No, but are you?' said the old gentleman.
`You know I am not, sir,' replied Mrs Nickleby.
