Detail of a ladies’ silk dress from the 1840s, made in England, but kept today at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art in the USA.
SHE was awkward — her hands were cold — dirty — coarse — she could do nothing right; they wondered how Madame Mantalini could have such people about her; requested they might see some other young woman the next time they came; and so forth.
Kate shed many bitter tears when these people were gone, and felt, for the first time, humbled by her occupation. She had, it is true, quailed at the prospect of drudgery and hard service; but she had felt no degradation in working for her bread, until she found herself exposed to insolence and pride.
Philosophy would have taught her that the degradation was on the side of those who had sunk so low as to display such passions habitually, and without cause: but she was too young for such consolation, and her honest feeling was hurt. May not the complaint, that common people are above their station, often take its rise in the fact of uncommon people being below theirs?
Précis
Kate Nickleby has been subjected to a barrage of unwarranted abuse and criticism by a customer in the dress shop where she works. It is the first time she has been treated snobbishly, and she is bewildered by the sense of worthlessness, but as Dickens says, the shame lies not with the abused, but with the abuser. (57 / 60 words)
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