Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers

Help / FAQ



<- Previous | Table of Contents | Next ->
PinkMonkey.com-Nicholas Nickelby by Charles Dickens




207

and looked down upon her rival with a kind of holy calmness and
tranquillity, that had a mighty effect in soothing her ruffled
feelings.

This happy state of mind had some influence in bringing about
a reconciliation; for, when a knock came at the front-door next
day, and the miller’s daughter was announced, Miss Squeers
betook herself to the parlour in a Christian frame of spirit,
perfectly beautiful to behold.

‘Well, Fanny,’ said the miller’s daughter, ‘you see I have come
to see you, although we had some words last night.’

‘I pity your bad passions, ’Tilda,’ replied Miss Squeers, ‘but I
bear no malice. I am above it.’

‘Don’t be cross, Fanny,’ said Miss Price. ‘I have come to tell you
something that I know will please you.’

‘What may that be, ’Tilda?’ demanded Miss Squeers; screwing
up her lips, and looking as if nothing in earth, air, fire, or water,
could afford her the slightest gleam of satisfaction.

‘This,’ rejoined Miss Price. ‘After we left here last night John
and I had a dreadful quarrel.’

‘That doesn’t please me,’ said Miss Squeers--relaxing into a
smile though.

‘Lor! I wouldn’t think so bad of you as to suppose it did,’
rejoined her companion. ‘That’s not it.’

‘Oh!’ said Miss Squeers, relapsing into melancholy. ‘Go on.’
‘After a great deal of wrangling, and saying we would never see
each other any more,’ continued Miss Price, ‘we made it up, and
this morning John went and wrote our names down to be put up,
for the first time, next Sunday, so we shall be married in three
weeks, and I give you notice to get your frock made.’


<- Previous | Table of Contents | Next ->
PinkMonkey.com-Nicholas Nickelby by Charles Dickens



All Contents Copyright © All rights reserved.
Further Distribution Is Strictly Prohibited.

About Us | Advertising | Contact Us | Privacy Policy | Home Page


Search:
Keywords:
In Association with Amazon.com