n't find fault with that,' said Squeers; 'it's a long journey
this weather.'

'Is it much farther to Dotheboys Hall, sir?' asked Nicholas.

'About three mile from here,' replied Squeers. 'But you needn't call 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 much
astonished.

'No,' replied Squeers. 'We call it a Hall up in London, because it
sounds 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 of Parliament
against that, I believe?'

'I believe not, sir,' rejoined Nicholas.

Squeers eyed his companion slyly, at the conclusion of this little
dialogue, and finding that he had grown thoughtful and appeared in
nowise disposed to volunteer any observations, contented himself with
lashing the pony until they reached their journey's end.

'Jump out,' said Squeers. 'Hallo there! Come and put this horse up. 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-buildings behind, and
a barn and stable adjoining. After the lapse of a minute or two, the
noise of somebody unlocking the yard-gate was heard, 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, with
humility.

'Fire! what fire? Where's there a fire?' demanded the schoolmaster,
sharply.

'Only in the kitchen, sir,' replied the boy. 'Missus said as I was
sitting up, I might go in there for a warm.'

'Your missus is a fool,' retorted Squeers. 'You'd have been a deuced
deal more wakeful in the cold, I'll engage.'

By this time Mr Squeers had dismounted; and after ordering the boy to
see to the pony, and to take care that he hadn't any more corn that
night, he told Nicholas to wait at the front-door a minute while he went
round and let him in.

A host of unpleasant misgivings, which had been crowding upon Nicholas
during the whole journey, thronged into his mind with redoubled
force when he was left alone. His great distance from home and the
impossibility of reaching it, except on foot,