‘To be sure,’ said Mrs Nickleby, crying bitterly, ‘he is a brute, a monster; and the walls are very bare, and want painting too, and I have had this ceiling whitewashed at the expense of eighteen–pence, which is a very distressing thing, considering that it is so much gone into your uncle’s pocket. I never could have believed it—never.’

‘Then I’ll just tell you one thing,’ said Mrs Nickleby, you’ll find yourself a little surprised; that’s all. You may depend upon it that this means something besides dinner.’