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'The figure fell back a pace or two, regarding the baron meanwhile with a look of intense terror, and when he had ceased, caught up

       the stake, plunged it violently into its body, uttered a frightful howl, and disappeared.

       'Von Koeldwethout never saw it again. Having once made up his mind to action, he soon brought the baroness and the Von Swillenhausens to reason, and died many years afterwards: not a rich man that I am aware of, but certainly a happy one: leaving behind him a numerous family, who had been carefully educated in bear and boar-hunting under his own personal eye. And my advice to all men is, that if ever they become hipped and melancholy from similar causes (as very many men do), they look at both sides of the question, applying a magnifying-glass to the best one; and if they still feel tempted to retire without leave, that they smoke a large pipe and drink a full bottle first, and profit by the laudable example of the Baron of Grogzwig.'

       'The fresh coach is ready, ladies and gentlemen, if you please,' said a new driver, looking in.

       This intelligence caused the punch to be finished in a great hurry, and prevented any discussion relative to the last story. Mr Squeers was observed to draw the grey-headed gentleman on one side, and to ask a question with great apparent interest; it bore reference to the Five Sisters of York, and was, in fact, an inquiry whether he could inform him how much per annum the Yorkshire convents got in those days with their boarders.

       The journey was then resumed. Nicholas fell asleep towards morning, and, when he awoke, found, with great regret, that, during his nap, both the Baron of Grogzwig and the grey-haired gentleman had got down and were gone. The day dragged on uncomfortably enough. At about six o'clock that night, he and Mr Squeers, and the little boys, and their united luggage, were all put down together at the George and New Inn, Greta Bridge.

       CHAPTER 7

       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 labouring men.

       '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

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       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 here.'

       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 you!'

       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.

       'Only in the kitchen, sir,' replied the boy. 'Missus said as I was sitting up, I might go in there for a warm.'

       'Your missus is a fool,' retorted Squeers. 'You'd have been a deuced deal more wakeful in the cold, I'll engage.'

       By this time Mr Squeers had dismounted; and after ordering the boy to see to the pony, and to take care that he hadn't any more corn that night, he told Nicholas to wait at the front-door a minute while he went round and let him in.

       A host of unpleasant misgivings, which had been crowding upon Nicholas during the whole journey, thronged into his mind with redoubled force when he was left alone. His great distance from home and the impossibility of reaching it, except on foot, should

       he feel ever so anxious to return, presented itself to him in most alarming colours; and as he looked up at the dreary house and dark windows, and upon the wild country round, covered with snow, he felt a depression of heart and spirit which he had never experienced before.

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       'Now then!' cried Squeers, poking his head out at the front-door. 'Where are you, Nickleby?'

       'Here, sir,' replied Nicholas.

       'Come in, then,' said Squeers 'the wind blows in, at this door, fit to knock a man off his legs.'

       Nicholas sighed, and hurried in. Mr Squeers, having bolted the door to keep it shut, ushered him into a small parlour scantily furnished with a few chairs, a yellow map hung against the wall, and a couple of tables; one of which bore some preparations for sup-per; while, on the other, a tutor's assistant, a Murray's grammar, half-a-dozen cards of terms, and a worn letter directed to Wackford Squeers, Esquire, were arranged in picturesque confusion.

       They had not been in this apartment a couple of minutes, when a female bounced into the room, and, seizing Mr Squeers by the throat, gave him two loud kisses: one close after the other, like a postman's knock. The lady, who was of a large raw-boned figure, was about half a head taller than Mr Squeers, and was dressed in a dimity night-jacket; with her hair in papers; she had also a dirty nightcap on, relieved by a yellow cotton handkerchief which tied it under the chin.

       'How is my Squeery?' said this lady in a playful manner, and a very hoarse voice.

       'Quite well, my love,' replied Squeers. 'How's the cows?'

       'All right, every one of 'em,' answered the lady.

       'And the pigs?' said Squeers.

       'As well as they were when you went away.'

       'Come; that's a blessing,' said Squeers, pulling off his greatcoat. 'The boys are all as they were, I suppose?'

       'Oh, yes, they're well enough,' replied Mrs Squeers, snappishly. 'That young Pitcher's had a fever.'

       'No!' exclaimed Squeers. 'Damn that boy, he's always at something of that sort.'

       'Never was such a boy, I do believe,' said Mrs Squeers; 'whatever he has is always catching too. I say it's obstinacy, and nothing shall ever convince me that it isn't. I'd beat it out of him; and I told you that, six months ago.'

       'So you did, my love,' rejoined Squeers. 'We'll try what can

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