sel which Mr. Squeers took into his
mouth, remained with strained eyes in torments of expectation.

"Thank God for a good breakfast," said Squeers when he had finished.
"Number one may take a drink."

Number one seized the mug ravenously, and had just drunk enough to make
him wish for more, when Mr. Squeers gave the signal for number two, who
gave up at the same interesting moment to number three; and the process
was repeated until the milk and water terminated with number five.

"And now," said the schoolmaster, dividing the bread and butter for three
into as many portions as there were children, "you had better look sharp
with your breakfast, for the horn will blow in a minute or two, and then
every boy leaves off."

Permission being thus given to fall to, the boys began to eat voraciously,
and in desperate haste; while the schoolmaster (who was in high good
humour after his meal) looked smilingly on. In a very short time the horn
was heard.

"I thought it wouldn't be long," said Squeers, jumping up and producing a
little basket from under the seat; "put what you haven't had time to eat,
in here, boys. You'll want it on the road!"

Nicholas was considerably startled by these very economical arrangements;
but he had no time to reflect upon them, for the little boys had to be got
up to the top of the coach, and their boxes had to be brought out and put
in, and Mr. Squeers's luggage was to be seen carefully deposited in the
boot, and all these offices were in his department.

Presently, however, the coach was off, and they had started on their long
trip, made doubly long by the severity of the weather, which caused them
to be detained several times; so it was not until six o'clock the
following night, that he and Mr. Squeers, and the little boys, were all
put down together at the George and New Inn, Greta Bridge.

"Is it much farther to Dotheboys Hall, sir?" asked Nicholas, when they had
started off, the little boys in one vehicle, he and Mr. Squeers in
another.

"About three mile from here," replied Squeers. "But you needn't call it a
Hall down here. 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