chool on whom he never ventured to lay a hand, and that that
boy being J. Steerforth. Steerforth himself confirmed this when it was
stated, and said that he should like to begin to see him do it. On being
asked by a mild boy (not me) how he would proceed if he did begin to see
him do it, he scratched a match on purpose to shed a glare over his
reply, and said he would commence with knocking him down with a blow on
the forehead from the seven-and-six-penny ink-bottle that was always on
the mantelpiece. We sat in the dark for some time, breathless.

I heard that Miss Creakle was regarded by the school in general as being
in love with Steerforth; and I am sure, as I sat in the dark, thinking
of his nice voice, and his fine face, and his easy manner, and his
curling hair, I thought it very likely. I heard that Mr. Mell was not a
bad sort of fellow, but hadn't a sixpence to bless himself with; and
that there was no doubt that old Mrs. Mell, his mother, was as poor as
Job.

One day, Traddles (the most unfortunate boy in the world) breaks a
window accidentally with a ball. I shudder at this moment with the
tremendous sensation of seeing it done, and feeling that the ball has
bounded on to Mr. Creakle's sacred head.

Poor Traddles! In a tight sky-blue suit that made his arms and legs like
German sausages, or roly-poly puddings, he was the merriest and most
miserable of all the boys. He was always being caned--I think he was
caned every day that half-year, except one holiday Monday, when he was
only rulered on both hands--and was always going to write to his uncle
about it, and never did. After laying his head on the desk for a little
while, he would cheer up somehow, begin to laugh again, and draw
skeletons all over his slate before his eyes were dry. I used at first
to wonder what comfort Traddles found in drawing skeletons. But I
believe he only did it because they were easy, and didn't want any
features.

He was very honorable, Traddles was; and held it as a solemn duty in the
boys to stand by one another. He suffered for this on several occasions;
and particularly once, when Steerforth laughed in church, and the
beadle thought it was Traddles, and took him out. I see him now, going
away under guard, despised by the congregation. He never said who was
the real offender, though he smarted for it next day, and was imprisoned
so many hours that he came forth with a whole churchyard full of
skeletons swarming all over his La