“A great encampment of tents they might be,” said Hewet, looking in front of him at the mountains. “Isn’t it like a water–colour too—you know the way water–colours dry in ridges all across the paper—I’ve been wondering what they looked like.”

‘He does seem indeed, upon my word, a most excellent creature, Kate,’ said Mrs Nickleby; ‘most excellent. And I am sure that at all times it will give me pleasure—really pleasure now—to have you, Mrs Browdie, to see me in this plain and homely manner. We make no display,’ said Mrs Nickleby, with an air which seemed to insinuate that they could make a vast deal if they were so disposed; ‘no fuss, no preparation; I wouldn’t allow it. I said, “Kate, my dear, you will only make Mrs Browdie feel uncomfortable, and how very foolish and inconsiderate that would be!” ’