mind that. You always keep on in the same path, and do them things that you see your father do, and when you die you'll go right slap to Heaven and be asked no questions."
Improving the occasion in these words, Mr. Squeers patted his son's head again, and then patted Smike's—but harder; and inquired in a bantering tone how he found himself by this time.
"I must go home," replied Smike, looking wildly round.
"To be sure you must. You're about right there," replied Mr. Squeers. "You'll go home very soon, you will. You'll find yourself at the peaceful village of Dotheboys, in Yorkshire, in something under a week's time, my young friend; and the next time you get away from there, I give you leave to keep away. Where's the clothes you run off in, you ungrateful robber?" said Mr. Squeers, in a severe voice.
Smike glanced at the neat attire which the care of Nicholas had provided for him, and wrung his hands.
"Do you know that I could hang you up outside of the Old Bailey, for making away with them articles of property?" said Squeers. "Do you know that it's a hanging matter—and I an't quite certain whether it an't an anatomy one besides—to walk off with up'ards of the valley of five pound from a dwelling-house? Eh—do you know that? What do you suppose was the worth of them clothes you had? Do you know that that Wellington-boot you wore, cost eight-and-twenty shillings when it was a pair, and the shoe seven-and-six? But you came to the right shop for mercy when you came to me, and thank your stars that it is me as has got to serve you with the article."
Anybody not in Mr. Squeers's confidence would have supposed that be was quite out of the article in question, instead of having a large stock on hand ready for all comers; nor would the opinion of sceptical persons have undergone much alteration when he followed up the remark by poking Smike in the chest with the ferrule of his umbrella, and dealing a smart shower of blows with the ribs of the same instrument upon his head and shoulders.
"I never threshed a boy in a hackney-coach before," said Mr. Squeers, when he stopped to rest. "There's inconveniency in it, but the novelty gives it a sort of relish too!"
Poor Smike! He warded off the blows as well as he could, and now shrunk into a corner of the coach, with his head resting on his hands, and his elbows on his knees; he was stunned and stupefied, and had no more idea that any act of his would enable him to escape from the all-powerful Squeers, now that he had no friend to speak to or advise with, than he had had in all the weary years of his Yorkshire life which preceded the arrival of Nicholas.
The journey seemed endless; street after street was entered and left behind, and still they went jolting on. At last Mr. Squeers began to thrust his head out at the window every half-minute, and to bawl a-variety of directions to the coachman; and after passing, with some difficulty, through several mean streets which the appearance of the houses and the bad state of the road denoted to have been recently built,
