at I
was very fond of such dirt beneath my feet, as I couldn't condescend to
touch with kitchen tongs, without blacking and crocking myself by the
contract? Do you, ma'am--do you? Oh! base and degrading 'Tilda!'

With these reproaches Miss Squeers flung the door wide open, and
disclosed to the eyes of the astonished Browdies and Nicholas, not only
her own symmetrical form, arrayed in the chaste white garments before
described (a little dirtier), but the form of her brother and father,
the pair of Wackfords.

'This is the hend, is it?' continued Miss Squeers, who, being excited,
aspirated her h's strongly; 'this is the hend, is it, of all my
forbearance and friendship for that double-faced thing--that viper,
that--that--mermaid?' (Miss Squeers hesitated a long time for this
last epithet, and brought it out triumphantly as last, as if it quite
clinched the business.) 'This is the hend, is it, of all my bearing with
her deceitfulness, her lowness, her falseness, her laying herself out to
catch the admiration of vulgar minds, in a way which made me blush for
my--for my--'

'Gender,' suggested Mr Squeers, regarding the spectators with a
malevolent eye--literally A malevolent eye.

'Yes,' said Miss Squeers; 'but I thank my stars that my ma is of the
same--'

'Hear, hear!' remarked Mr Squeers; 'and I wish she was here to have a
scratch at this company.'

'This is the hend, is it,' said Miss Squeers, tossing her head, and
looking contemptuously at the floor, 'of my taking notice of that
rubbishing creature, and demeaning myself to patronise her?'

'Oh, come,' rejoined Mrs Browdie, disregarding all the endeavours of
her spouse to restrain her, and forcing herself into a front row, 'don't
talk such nonsense as that.'

'Have I not patronised you, ma'am?' demanded Miss Squeers.

'No,' returned Mrs Browdie.

'I will not look for blushes in such a quarter,' said Miss Squeers,
haughtily, 'for that countenance is a stranger to everything but
hignominiousness and red-faced boldness.'

'I say,' interposed John Browdie, nettled by these accumulated attacks
on his wife, 'dra' it mild, dra' it mild.'

'You, Mr Browdie,' said Miss Squeers, taking him up very quickly, 'I
pity. I have no feeling for you, sir, but one of unliquidated pity.'

'Oh!' said John.

'No,' said Miss Squeers, looking sideways at her parent, 'although I AM
a queer bridesmaid, and SHAN'T be a bride in a hurry, and although my
husband WILL be in luck, I