“Nothing, please sir,” said the little boy.

“Nothing, sir!” exclaimed Mr. Squeers.

“Please, sir, I sneezed,” rejoined the boy, trembling till the little trunk shook under him.

“Oh! sneezed, did you?” retorted Mr. Squeers.  “Then what did you say ‘nothing’ for, sir?”

In default of a better answer to this question, the little boy screwed a couple of knuckles into each of his eyes and began to cry; wherefore Mr. Squeers knocked him off the trunk with a blow on one side of his face, and knocked him on again with a blow on the other.

“Wait till I get you down into Yorkshire, my young gentleman,” said Mr. Squeers, “and then I’ll give you the rest.  Will you hold that noise, sir?”

“Ye-ye-yes,” sobbed the little boy, rubbing his face very hard.

“Then do so at once, sir,” said Squeers.  “Do you hear?”

As this admonition was accompanied with a threatening gesture, and uttered with a savage aspect, the little boy rubbed his face harder, and between alternately sniffing and choking, gave no further vent to his emotions.

“Mr. Squeers,” said the waiter, at this juncture; “here’s a gentleman asking for you.”

“Show the gentleman in, Richard,” replied Mr. Squeers, in a soft voice.  “Put your handkerchief in your pocket, you little scoundrel, or I’ll murder you when the gentleman goes.”

The schoolmaster had scarcely uttered these words in a fierce whisper, when the stranger entered.  Affecting not to see him, Mr. Squeers feigned to be intent upon mending a pen, and offering benevolent advice to his youthful pupil.

“My dear child,” said Mr. Squeers, “All people have their trials.  This early trial of yours that is fit to make your little heart burst, and your very eyes come out of your head with crying, what is it?  Less than nothing.  You are leaving your friends, but you will have a father in me, my dear, and a mother in Mrs. Squeers.  At the delightful village of Dotheboys, near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire, where youth are boarded, clothed, booked, washed, furnished with pocket-money, provided with all necessaries——­”

Here the waiting stranger interrupted with inquiries about sending his boys to Mr. Squeers, and before he and Mr. Squeers had finished their talk, Nicholas Nickleby entered.  He briefly stated his desire for a position, his having seen Mr. Squeers’s “Herald” advertisement, and, after more or less questioning and examination from the schoolmaster, Nicholas was engaged as assistant master for Dotheboys Hall, and it was settled that he was to go by coach with Mr. Squeers at eight o’clock the next morning.

When he arrived, punctually at the appointed hour, he found that learned gentleman sitting at breakfast, with five little boys, whom he was to take down with him, ranged in a row on the opposite seat.  Mr. Squeers had before him a small measure of coffee, a plate of hot toast, and a cold round of beef, but he was at that moment intent on preparing breakfast for the little boys.