'I have been thinking, Mr Squeers, of
placing my two boys at your school.'
'It is not for me to say so, sir,' replied Mr Squeers, 'but I
don't think you could possibly do a better thing.'
'Hem!' said the other. 'Twenty pounds per annewum, I believe, Mr
Squeers?'
'Guineas,' rejoined the schoolmaster, with a persuasive
smile.
'Pounds for two, I think, Mr Squeers,' said Mr Snawley,
solemnly.
'I don't think it could be done, sir,' replied Squeers, as if he
had never considered the proposition before. 'Let me see; four
fives is twenty, double that, and deduct the—well, a pound either
way shall not stand betwixt us. You must recommend me to your
connection, sir, and make it up that way.'
'They are not great eaters,' said Mr Snawley.
'Oh! that doesn't matter at all,' replied Squeers. 'We don't
consider the boys' appetites at our establishment.' This was
strictly true; they did not.
'Every wholesome luxury, sir, that Yorkshire can afford,'
continued Squeers; 'every beautiful moral that Mrs Squeers can
instil; every—in short, every comfort of a home that a boy could
wish for, will be theirs, Mr Snawley.'
'I should wish their morals to be particularly attended to,'
said Mr Snawley.
'I am glad of that, sir,' replied the schoolmaster, drawing
himself up. 'They have come to the right shop for morals, sir.'
'You are a moral man yourself,' said Mr Snawley.
'I rather believe I am, sir,' replied Squeers.
'I have the satisfaction to know you are, sir,' said Mr Snawley.
'I asked one of your references, and he said you were pious.'
'Well, sir, I hope I am a little in that line,' replied
Squeers.
'I hope I am also,' rejoined the other. 'Could I say a few words
with you in the next box?'
'By all means,' rejoined Squeers with a grin. 'My dears, will
you speak to your new playfellow a minute or two? That is one of my
boys, sir. Belling his name is,—a Taunton boy that, sir.'
'Is he, indeed?' rejoined Mr Snawley, looking at the poor little
urchin as if he were some extraordinary natural curiosity.
'He goes down with me tomorrow, sir,' said Squeers. 'That's his
luggage that he is a sitting upon now. Each boy is required to
bring, sir, two suits of clothes, six shirts, six pair of
stockings, two nightcaps, two pocket-handkerchiefs, two pair of
shoes, two hats, and a razor.'
'A razor!' exclaimed Mr Snawley, as they walked into the next
box. 'What for?'
'To shave with,' replied Squeers, in a slow and measured
tone.
There was not much in these three words, but there must have
been something in the manner in which they were said, to attract
attention; for the schoolmaster and his companion looked steadily
at each other for a few seconds, and then exchanged a very meaning
smile. Snawley was a sleek, flat-nosed man, clad in sombre
garments, and long black gaiters, and bearing in his countenance an
expression of much mortification and sanctity; so, his smiling
without any obvious reason was the more remarkable.
'Up to what age do you keep boys at your school then?' he asked
at length.
'Just as long as their friends make the quarterly payments to my
agent in town, or until such time as they run away,' replied
Squeers. 'Let us understand each other; I see we may safely do so.
What are these boys;—natural children?'
'No,' rejoined Snawley, meeting the gaze of the schoolmaster's
one eye. 'They ain't.'
'I thought they might be,' said Squeers, coolly. 'We have a good
many of them; that boy's one.'
'Him in the next box?' said Snawley.
Squeers nodded in the affirmative; his companion took another
peep at the little boy on the trunk, and, turning round again,
looked as if he were quite disappointed to see him so much like
other boys, and said he should hardly have thought it.
'He is,' cried Squeers. 'But about these boys of yours; you
wanted to speak to me?'
'Yes,' replied Snawley. 'The fact is, I am not their father, Mr
Squeers. I'm only their father-in-law.'
'Oh! Is that it?' said the schoolmaster. 'That explains it at
once. I was wondering what the devil you were going to send them to
Yorkshire for. Ha! ha! Oh, I understand now.'
'You see I have married the mother,' pursued Snawley; 'it's
expensive keeping boys at home, and as she has a little money in
her own right, I am afraid (women are so very foolish, Mr Squeers)
that she might be led to squander it on them, which would be their
ruin, you know.'
'I see,' returned Squeers, throwing himself back in his chair,
and waving his hand.
'And this,' resumed Snawley, 'has made me anxious to put them to
some school a good distance off, where there are no holidays—none
of those ill-judged coming home twice a year that unsettle
children's minds so—and where they may rough it a little—you
comprehend?'
'The payments regular, and no questions asked,' said Squeers,
nodding his head.
'That's it, exactly,' rejoined the other. 'Morals strictly
attended to, though.'
'Strictly,' said Squeers.
'Not too much writing home allowed, I suppose?' said the
father-in-law, hesitating.
'None, except a circular at Christmas, to say they never were so
happy, and hope they may never be sent for,' rejoined Squeers.
'Nothing could be better,' said the father-in-law, rubbing his
hands.
'Then, as we understand each other,' said Squeers, 'will you
allow me to ask you whether you consider me a highly virtuous,
exemplary, and well-conducted man in private life; and whether, as
a person whose business it is to take charge of youth, you place
the strongest confidence in my unimpeachable integrity, liberality,
religious principles, and ability?'
'Certainly I do,' replied the father-in-law, reciprocating the
schoolmaster's grin.
'Perhaps you won't object to say that, if I make you a
reference?'
'Not the least in the world.'
'That's your sort!' said Squeers, taking up a pen; 'this is
doing business, and that's what I like.'
Having entered Mr Snawley's address, the schoolmaster had next
to perform the still more agreeable office of entering the receipt
of the first quarter's payment in advance, which he had scarcely
completed, when another voice was heard inquiring for Mr
Squeers.
'Here he is,' replied the schoolmaster; 'what is it?'
'Only a matter of business, sir,' said Ralph Nickleby,
presenting himself, closely followed by Nicholas. 'There was an
advertisement of yours in the papers this morning?'
'There was, sir. This way, if you please,' said Squeers, who had
by this time got back to the box by the fire-place. 'Won't you be
seated?'
'Why, I think I will,' replied Ralph, suiting the action to the
word, and placing his hat on the table before him. 'This is my
nephew, sir, Mr Nicholas Nickleby.'
'How do you do, sir?' said Squeers.
Nicholas bowed, said he was very well, and seemed very much
astonished at the outward appearance of the proprietor of Dotheboys
Hall: as indeed he was.
'Perhaps you recollect me?' said Ralph, looking narrowly at the
schoolmaster.
'You paid me a small account at each of my half-yearly visits to
town, for some years, I think, sir,' replied Squeers.
'I did,' rejoined Ralph.
'For the parents of a boy named Dorker, who unfortunately—'
'—unfortunately died at Dotheboys Hall,' said Ralph, finishing
the sentence.
'I remember very well, sir,' rejoined Squeers. 'Ah! Mrs Squeers,
sir, was as partial to that lad as if he had been her own; the
attention, sir, that was bestowed upon that boy in his illness! Dry
toast and warm tea offered him every night and morning when he
couldn't swallow anything—a candle in his bedroom on the very night
he died—the best dictionary sent up for him to lay his head upon—I
don't regret it though. It is a pleasant thing to reflect that one
did one's duty by him.'
Ralph smiled, as if he meant anything but smiling, and looked
round at the strangers present.
'These are only some pupils of mine,' said Wackford Squeers,
pointing to the little boy on the trunk and the two little boys on
the floor, who had been staring at each other without uttering a
word, and writhing their bodies into most remarkable contortions,
according to the custom of little boys when they first become
acquainted. 'This gentleman, sir, is a parent who is kind enough to
compliment me upon the course of education adopted at Dotheboys
Hall, which is situated, sir, at the delightful village of
Dotheboys, near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire, where youth are boarded,
clothed, booked, washed, furnished with pocket-money—'
'Yes, we know all about that, sir,' interrupted Ralph, testily.
'It's in the advertisement.'
'You are very right, sir; it IS in the advertisement,' replied
Squeers.
'And in the matter of fact besides,' interrupted Mr Snawley.
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