Squeers scowled at him with the worst and most malicious expression of which his face was capable--it was a face of remarkable capability, too, in that way--and shook his fist stealthily.
`Coom, coom, schoolmeasther,' said John, `dinnot make a fool o' thyself;for if I was to sheake mine--only once thou'd fa' doon wi' the wind o'
it.'
`It was you, was it,' returned Squeers, `that helped off my runaway boy? It was you, was it?'
`Me!' returned John, in a loud tone. `Yes, it wa' me, coom; wa'at o'
that? It wa' me. Noo then!'
`You hear him say he did it, my child!' said Squeers, appealing to his daughter. `You hear him say he did it!'
`Did it!' cried John. `I'll tell 'ee more; hear this, too. If thou'd got another roonaway boy, I'd do it agean. If thou'd got twonty roonaway boys, I'd do it twonty times ower, and twonty more to thot; and I tell thee more,' said John, `noo my blood is oop, that thou'rt an old ra'ascal;and that it's well for thou, thou be'est an old 'un, or I'd ha' poonded thee to flour, when thou told an honest mun hoo thou'd licked that poor chap in t' coorch.'
`An honest man!' cried Squeers, with a sneer.
`Ah! an honest man,' replied John; `honest in ought but ever putting legs under seame table wi' such as thou.'
`Scandal!' said Squeers, exultingly. `Two witnesses to it; Wackford knows the nature of an oath, he does--we shall have you there, sir. Rascal, eh?' Mr Squeers took out his pocketbook and made a note of it. `Very good.
I should say that was worth full twenty pound at the next assizes, without the honesty, sir.'
`'Soizes,' cried John, `thou'd betther not talk to me o' 'Soizes. Yorkshire schools have been shown up at 'Soizes afore noo, mun, and it's a ticklish soobjact to revive, I can tell ye.'
Mr Squeers shook his head in a threatening manner, looking very white with passion; and taking his daughter's arm, and dragging little Wackford by the hand, retreated towards the door.
`As for you,' said Squeers, turning round and addressing Nicholas, who, as he had caused him to smart pretty soundly on a former occasion, purposely abstained from taking any part in the discussion, `see if I ain't down upon you before long. You'll go a kidnapping of boys, will you? Take care their fathers don't turn up--mark that--take care their fathers don't turn up, and send 'em back to me to do as I like with, in spite of you.'
`I am not afraid of that,' replied Nicholas, shrugging his shoulders contemptuously, and turning away.
`Ain't you!' retorted Squeers, with a diabolical look. `Now then, come along.'
`I leave such society, with my pa, for h ever,' said Miss Squeers, looking contemptuously and loftily round. `I am defiled by breathing the air with such creatures. Poor Mr Browdie! He! he! he! I do pity him, that I do; he's so deluded. He! he! he!--Artful and designing 'Tilda!'
With this sudden relapse into the sternest and most majestic wrath, Miss Squeers swept from the room; and having sustained her dignity until the last possible moment, was heard to sob and scream and struggle in the passage.
John Browdie remained standing behind the table, looking from his wife to Nicholas, and back again, with his mouth wide open, until his hand accidentally fell upon the tankard of ale, when he took it up, and having obscured his features therewith for some time, drew a long breath, handed it over to Nicholas, and rang the bell.
`Here, waither,' said John, briskly. `Look alive here. Tak' these things awa', and let's have soomat broiled for sooper--vary comfortable and plenty o' it--at ten o'clock. Bring soom brandy and soom wather, and a pair o'
slippers--the largest pair in the house--and be quick aboot it. Dash ma wig!' said John, rubbing his hands, `there's no ganging oot toneeght, noo, to fetch anybody whoam, and ecod, we'll begin to spend the evening in airnest.'