Chapter 7

by Charles Dickens

　　Mr and Mrs Squeers at HomeMr Squeers, being safely landed, left Nicholas and the boys standingwith the luggage in the road, to amuse themselves by looking at thecoach as it changed horses, while he ran into the tavern and wentthrough the leg-stretching process at the bar. After some minutes,he returned, with his legs thoroughly stretched, if the hue of hisnose and a short hiccup afforded any criterion; and at the same timethere came out of the yard a rusty pony-chaise, and a cart, drivenby two labouring men.'Put the boys and the boxes into the cart,' said Squeers, rubbinghis hands; 'and this young man and me will go on in the chaise. Getin, Nickleby.'Nicholas obeyed. Mr. Squeers with some difficulty inducing thepony to obey also, they started off, leaving the cart-load of infantmisery to follow at leisure.'Are you cold, Nickleby?' inquired Squeers, after they had travelledsome distance in silence.'Rather, sir, I must say.''Well, I don't find fault with that,' said Squeers; 'it's a longjourney this weather.''Is it much farther to Dotheboys Hall, sir?' asked Nicholas.'About three mile from here,' replied Squeers. 'But you needn'tcall 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 muchastonished.'No,' replied Squeers. 'We call it a Hall up in London, because itsounds 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 ofParliament against that, I believe?''I believe not, sir,' rejoined Nicholas.Squeers eyed his companion slyly, at the conclusion of this littledialogue, and finding that he had grown thoughtful and appeared innowise disposed to volunteer any observations, contented himselfwith lashing the pony until they reached their journey's end.'Jump out,' said Squeers. 'Hallo there! Come and put this horseup. 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-buildingsbehind, and a barn and stable adjoining. After the lapse of aminute or two, the noise of somebody unlocking the yard-gate washeard, 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, withhumility.'Fire! what fire? Where's there a fire?' demanded the schoolmaster,sharply.'Only in the kitchen, sir,' replied the boy. 'Missus said as I wassitting up, I might go in there for a warm.''Your missus is a fool,' retorted Squeers. 'You'd have been adeuced deal more wakeful in the cold, I'll engage.'By this time Mr Squeers had dismounted; and after ordering the boyto see to the pony, and to take care that he hadn't any more cornthat night, he told Nicholas to wait at the front-door a minutewhile he went round and let him in.A host of unpleasant misgivings, which had been crowding uponNicholas during the whole journey, thronged into his mind withredoubled force when he was left alone. His great distance fromhome and the impossibility of reaching it, except on foot, should hefeel ever so anxious to return, presented itself to him in mostalarming colours; and as he looked up at the dreary house and darkwindows, and upon the wild country round, covered with snow, he felta depression of heart and spirit which he had never experiencedbefore.'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, fitto knock a man off his legs.'Nicholas sighed, and hurried in. Mr Squeers, having bolted the doorto keep it shut, ushered him into a small parlour scantily furnishedwith a few chairs, a yellow map hung against the wall, and a coupleof tables; one of which bore some preparations for supper; while, onthe other, a tutor's assistant, a Murray's grammar, half-a-dozencards 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 afemale bounced into the room, and, seizing Mr Squeers by the throat,gave him two loud kisses: one close after the other, like apostman's knock. The lady, who was of a large raw-boned figure, wasabout half a head taller than Mr Squeers, and was dressed in adimity night-jacket; with her hair in papers; she had also a dirtynightcap on, relieved by a yellow cotton handkerchief which tied itunder the chin.'How is my Squeery?' said this lady in a playful manner, and a veryhoarse 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 great-coat.'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 somethingof that sort.''Never was such a boy, I do believe,' said Mrs Squeers; 'whatever hehas is always catching too. I say it's obstinacy, and nothing shallever convince me that it isn't. I'd beat it out of him; and I toldyou that, six months ago.''So you did, my love,' rejoined Squeers. 'We'll try what can bedone.'Pending these little endearments, Nicholas had stood, awkwardlyenough, in the middle of the room: not very well knowing whether hewas expected to retire into the passage, or to remain where he was.He was now relieved from his perplexity by Mr Squeers.'This is the new young man, my dear,' said that gentleman.'Oh,' replied Mrs Squeers, nodding her head at Nicholas, and eyeinghim coldly from top to toe.'He'll take a meal with us tonight,' said Squeers, 'and go among theboys tomorrow morning. You can give him a shake-down here, tonight,can't you?''We must manage it somehow,' replied the lady. 'You don't much mindhow you sleep, I suppose, sir?'No, indeed,' replied Nicholas, 'I am not particular.''That's lucky,' said Mrs Squeers. And as the lady's humour wasconsidered to lie chiefly in retort, Mr Squeers laughed heartily,and seemed to expect that Nicholas should do the same.After some further conversation between the master and mistressrelative to the success of Mr Squeers's trip and the people who hadpaid, and the people who had made default in payment, a youngservant girl brought in a Yorkshire pie and some cold beef, whichbeing set upon the table, the boy Smike appeared with a jug of ale.Mr Squeers was emptying his great-coat pockets of letters todifferent boys, and other small documents, which he had brought downin them. The boy glanced, with an anxious and timid expression, atthe papers, as if with a sickly hope that one among them mightrelate to him. The look was a very painful one, and went toNicholas's heart at once; for it told a long and very sad history.It induced him to consider the boy more attentively, and he wassurprised to observe the extraordinary mixture of garments whichformed his dress. Although he could not have been less thaneighteen or nineteen years old, and was tall for that age, he wore askeleton suit, such as is usually put upon very little boys, andwhich, though most absurdly short in the arms and legs, was quitewide enough for his attenuated frame. In order that the lower partof his legs might be in perfect keeping with this singular dress, hehad a very large pair of boots, originally made for tops, whichmight have been once worn by some stout farmer, but were now toopatched and tattered for a beggar. Heaven knows how long he hadbeen there, but he still wore the same linen which he had firsttaken down; for, round his neck, was a tattered child's frill, onlyhalf concealed by a coarse, man's neckerchief. He was lame; and ashe feigned to be busy in arranging the table, glanced at the letterswith a look so keen, and yet so dispirited and hopeless, thatNicholas could hardly bear to watch him.'What are you bothering about there, Smike?' cried Mrs Squeers; 'letthe things alone, can't you?''Eh!' said Squeers, looking up. 'Oh! it's you, is it?''Yes, sir,' replied the youth, pressing his hands together, asthough to control, by force, the nervous wandering of his fingers.'Is there--''Well!' said Squeers.'Have you--did anybody--has nothing been heard--about me?''Devil a bit,' replied Squeers testily.The lad withdrew his eyes, and, putting his hand to his face, movedtowards the door.'Not a word,' resumed Squeers, 'and never will be. Now, this is apretty sort of thing, isn't it, that you should have been left here,all these years, and no money paid after the first six--nor nonotice taken, nor no clue to be got who you belong to? It's apretty sort of thing that I should have to feed a great fellow likeyou, and never hope to get one penny for it, isn't it?'The boy put his hand to his head as if he were making an effort torecollect something, and then, looking vacantly at his questioner,gradually broke into a smile, and limped away.'I'll tell you what, Squeers,' remarked his wife as the door closed,'I think that young chap's turning silly.''I hope not,' said the schoolmaster; 'for he's a handy fellow out ofdoors, and worth his meat and drink, anyway. I should think he'dhave wit enough for us though, if he was. But come; let's havesupper, for I am hungry and tired, and want to get to bed.'This reminder brought in an exclusive steak for Mr Squeers, whospeedily proceeded to do it ample justice. Nicholas drew up hischair, but his appetite was effectually taken away.'How's the steak, Squeers?' said Mrs S.'Tender as a lamb,' replied Squeers. 'Have a bit.''I couldn't eat a morsel,' replied his wife. 'What'll the young mantake, my dear?''Whatever he likes that's present,' rejoined Squeers, in a mostunusual burst of generosity.'What do you say, Mr Knuckleboy?' inquired Mrs Squeers.'I'll take a little of the pie, if you please,' replied Nicholas.'A very little, for I'm not hungry.'Well, it's a pity to cut the pie if you're not hungry, isn't it?'said Mrs Squeers. 'Will you try a bit of the beef?''Whatever you please,' replied Nicholas abstractedly; 'it's all thesame to me.'Mrs Squeers looked vastly gracious on receiving this reply; andnodding to Squeers, as much as to say that she was glad to find theyoung man knew his station, assisted Nicholas to a slice of meatwith her own fair hands.'Ale, Squeery?' inquired the lady, winking and frowning to give himto understand that the question propounded, was, whether Nicholasshould have ale, and not whether he (Squeers) would take any.'Certainly,' said Squeers, re-telegraphing in the same manner. 'Aglassful.'So Nicholas had a glassful, and being occupied with his ownreflections, drank it, in happy innocence of all the foregoneproceedings.'Uncommon juicy steak that,' said Squeers, as he laid down his knifeand fork, after plying it, in silence, for some time.'It's prime meat,' rejoined his lady. 'I bought a good large pieceof it myself on purpose for--''For what!' exclaimed Squeers hastily. 'Not for the--''No, no; not for them,' rejoined Mrs Squeers; 'on purpose for youagainst you came home. Lor! you didn't think I could have made sucha mistake as that.''Upon my word, my dear, I didn't know what you were going to say,'said Squeers, who had turned pale.'You needn't make yourself uncomfortable,' remarked his wife,laughing heartily. 'To think that I should be such a noddy! Well!'This part of the conversation was rather unintelligible; but popularrumour in the neighbourhood asserted that Mr Squeers, being amiablyopposed to cruelty to animals, not unfrequently purchased for byconsumption the bodies of horned cattle who had died a naturaldeath; possibly he was apprehensive of having unintentionallydevoured some choice morsel intended for the young gentlemen.Supper being over, and removed by a small servant girl with a hungryeye, Mrs Squeers retired to lock it up, and also to take into safecustody the clothes of the five boys who had just arrived, and whowere half-way up the troublesome flight of steps which leads todeath's door, in consequence of exposure to the cold. They werethen regaled with a light supper of porridge, and stowed away, sideby side, in a small bedstead, to warm each other, and dream of asubstantial meal with something hot after it, if their fancies setthat way: which it is not at all improbable they did.Mr Squeers treated himself to a stiff tumbler of brandy and water,made on the liberal half-and-half principle, allowing for thedissolution of the sugar; and his amiable helpmate mixed Nicholasthe ghost of a small glassful of the same compound. This done, Mrand Mrs Squeers drew close up to the fire, and sitting with theirfeet on the fender, talked confidentially in whispers; whileNicholas, taking up the tutor's assistant, read the interestinglegends in the miscellaneous questions, and all the figures into thebargain, with as much thought or consciousness of what he was doing,as if he had been in a magnetic slumber.At length, Mr Squeers yawned fearfully, and opined that it was hightime to go to bed; upon which signal, Mrs Squeers and the girldragged in a small straw mattress and a couple of blankets, andarranged them into a couch for Nicholas.'We'll put you into your regular bedroom tomorrow, Nickelby,' saidSqueers. 'Let me see! Who sleeps in Brooks's's bed, my dear?''In Brooks's,' said Mrs Squeers, pondering. 'There's Jennings,little Bolder, Graymarsh, and what's his name.''So there is,' rejoined Squeers. 'Yes! Brooks is full.''Full!' thought Nicholas. 'I should think he was.''There's a place somewhere, I know,' said Squeers; 'but I can't atthis moment call to mind where it is. However, we'll have that allsettled tomorrow. Good-night, Nickleby. Seven o'clock in themorning, mind.''I shall be ready, sir,' replied Nicholas. 'Good-night.''I'll come in myself and show you where the well is,' said Squeers.'You'll always find a little bit of soap in the kitchen window; thatbelongs to you.'Nicholas opened his eyes, but not his mouth; and Squeers was againgoing away, when he once more turned back.'I don't know, I am sure,' he said, 'whose towel to put you on; butif you'll make shift with something tomorrow morning, Mrs Squeerswill arrange that, in the course of the day. My dear, don'tforget.''I'll take care,' replied Mrs Squeers; 'and mind you take care,young man, and get first wash. The teacher ought always to have it;but they get the better of him if they can.'Mr Squeers then nudged Mrs Squeers to bring away the brandy bottle,lest Nicholas should help himself in the night; and the lady havingseized it with great precipitation, they retired together.Nicholas, being left alone, took half-a-dozen turns up and down theroom in a condition of much agitation and excitement; but, growinggradually calmer, sat himself down in a chair, and mentallyresolved that, come what come might, he would endeavour, for a time,to bear whatever wretchedness might be in store for him, and thatremembering the helplessness of his mother and sister, he would givehis uncle no plea for deserting them in their need. Goodresolutions seldom fail of producing some good effect in the mindfrom which they spring. He grew less desponding, and--so sanguineand buoyant is youth--even hoped that affairs at Dotheboys Hallmight yet prove better than they promised.He was preparing for bed, with something like renewed cheerfulness,when a sealed letter fell from his coat pocket. In the hurry ofleaving London, it had escaped his attention, and had not occurredto him since, but it at once brought back to him the recollection ofthe mysterious behaviour of Newman Noggs.'Dear me!' said Nicholas; 'what an extraordinary hand!'It was directed to himself, was written upon very dirty paper, andin such cramped and crippled writing as to be almost illegible.After great difficulty and much puzzling, he contrived to read asfollows:--My dear young Man.I know the world. Your father did not, or he would not have doneme a kindness when there was no hope of return. You do not, or youwould not be bound on such a journey.If ever you want a shelter in London (don't be angry at this, I oncethought I never should), they know where I live, at the sign of theCrown, in Silver Street, Golden Square. It is at the corner ofSilver Street and James Street, with a bar door both ways. You cancome at night. Once, nobody was ashamed--never mind that. It's allover.Excuse errors. I should forget how to wear a whole coat now. Ihave forgotten all my old ways. My spelling may have gone withthem.Newman Noggs.P.S. If you should go near Barnard Castle, there is good ale at theKing's Head. Say you know me, and I am sure they will not chargeyou for it. You may say Mr Noggs there, for I was a gentleman then.I was indeed.It may be a very undignified circumstances to record, but after hehad folded this letter and placed it in his pocket-book, NicholasNickleby's eyes were dimmed with a moisture that might have beentaken for tears.