Nicholas Nickleby HTML version
Mr and Mrs Squeers at Home
Mr Squeers, being safely landed, left Nicholas and the boys standing with the
luggage in the road, to amuse themselves by looking at the coach as it changed
horses, while he ran into the tavern and went through the leg-stretching process
at the bar. After some minutes, he returned, with his legs thoroughly stretched, if
the hue of his nose and a short hiccup afforded any criterion; and at the same
time there came out of the yard a rusty pony-chaise, and a cart, driven by two
'Put the boys and the boxes into the cart,' said Squeers, rubbing his hands; 'and
this young man and me will go on in the chaise. Get in, Nickleby.'
Nicholas obeyed. Mr. Squeers with some difficulty inducing the pony to obey
also, they started off, leaving the cart-load of infant misery to follow at leisure.
'Are you cold, Nickleby?' inquired Squeers, after they had travelled some
distance in silence.
'Rather, sir, I must say.'
'Well, I don't find fault with that,' said Squeers; 'it's a long journey this weather.'
'Is it much farther to Dotheboys Hall, sir?' asked Nicholas.
'About three mile from here,' replied Squeers. 'But you needn't call it a Hall down
Nicholas coughed, as if he would like to know why.
'The fact is, it ain't a Hall,' observed Squeers drily.
'Oh, indeed!' said Nicholas, whom this piece of intelligence much astonished.
'No,' replied Squeers. 'We call it a Hall up in London, because it sounds better,
but they don't know it by that name in these parts. A man may call his house an
island if he likes; there's no act of Parliament against that, I believe?'
'I believe not, sir,' rejoined Nicholas.
Squeers eyed his companion slyly, at the conclusion of this little dialogue, and
finding that he had grown thoughtful and appeared in nowise disposed to
volunteer any observations, contented himself with lashing the pony until they
reached their journey's end.
'Jump out,' said Squeers. 'Hallo there! Come and put this horse up. Be quick, will
While the schoolmaster was uttering these and other impatient cries, Nicholas
had time to observe that the school was a long, cold- looking house, one storey
high, with a few straggling out-buildings behind, and a barn and stable adjoining.
After the lapse of a minute or two, the noise of somebody unlocking the yard-gate
was heard, and presently a tall lean boy, with a lantern in his hand, issued forth.
'Is that you, Smike?' cried Squeers.
'Yes, sir,' replied the boy.
'Then why the devil didn't you come before?'
'Please, sir, I fell asleep over the fire,' answered Smike, with humility.
'Fire! what fire? Where's there a fire?' demanded the schoolmaster, sharply.