Nay, Miss Petowker even whispered that she had wholly dropped the Kenwigses in her conversations with the manager's family, and had represented herself as having encountered Mr Johnson in the very first and most fashionable circles; and on Nicholas receiving this intelligence with unfeigned surprise, she added, with a sweet glance, that she had a claim on his good nature now, and might tax it before long.
Nicholas had the honour of playing in a slight piece with Miss Petowker that night, and could not but observe that the warmth of her reception was mainly attributable to a most persevering umbrella in the upper boxes; he saw, too, that the enchanting actress cast many sweet looks towards the quarter whence these sounds proceeded; and that every time she did so, the umbrella broke out afresh.

Once, he thought that a peculiarly shaped hat in the same corner was not wholly unknown to him; but, being occupied with his share of the stage business, he bestowed no great attention upon this circumstance, and it had quite vanished from his memory by the time he reached home.
He had just sat down to supper with Smike, when one of the people of the house came outside the door, and announced that a gentleman below stairs wished to speak to Mr Johnson.
'Well, if he does, you must tell him to come up; that's all I know,' replied Nicholas.

'One of our hungry brethren, I suppose, Smike.' His fellow-lodger looked at the cold meat in silent calculation of the quantity that would be left for dinner next day, and put back a slice he had cut for himself, in order that the visitor's encroachments might be less formidable in their effects.
'It is not anybody who has been here before,' said Nicholas, 'for he is tumbling up every stair.

Come in, come in.

In the name of wonder! Mr Lillyvick ?' It was, indeed, the collector of water-rates who, regarding Nicholas with a fixed look and immovable countenance, shook hands with most portentous solemnity, and sat himself down in a seat by the chimney-corner.
'Why, when did you come here ?' asked Nicholas.
'This morning, sir,' replied Mr Lillyvick.
'Oh! I see; then you were at the theatre tonight, and it was your umb--' 'This umbrella,' said Mr Lillyvick, producing a fat green cotton one with a battered ferrule.