something in the manner in which they were said, to attract attention, for the schoolmaster and his companion looked steadily at each other for a few seconds, and then exchanged a very meaning smile. Snawley was a sleek flat-nosed man, clad in sombre garments, and long black gaiters, and bearing in his countenance an expression of much mortification and sanctity, so that his smiling without any obvious reason was the more remarkable.
"Up to what age do you keep boys at your school then?" he asked at length.
"Just as long as their friends make the quarterly payments to my agent in town, or until such time as they run away," replied Squeers. "Let us understand each other; I see we may safely do so. What are these boys;—natural children?"
"No," rejoined Snawley, meeting the gaze of the schoolmaster's one eye. "They an't."
"I thought they might be," said Squeers, coolly. "We have a good many of them; that boy's one."
"Him in the next box?" said Snawley.
Squeers nodded in the affirmative, and his companion took another peep at the little boy on the trunk, and turning round again, looked as if he were quite disappointed to see him so much like other boys, and said he should hardly have thought it.
"He is," cried Squeers. "But about these boys of yours; you wanted to speak to me?"
"Yes," replied Snawley. "The fact is, I am not their father, Mr. Squeers. I'm only their father-in-law."
"Oh! Is that it?" said the schoolmaster. "That explains it at once. I was wondering what the devil you were going to send them to Yorkshire for. Ha! ha! Oh, I understand now."
"You see I have married the mother," pursued Snawley; "it's expensive keeping boys at home, and as she has a little money in her own right, I am afraid (women are so very foolish, Mr. Squeers) that she might be led to squander it on them, which would be their ruin, you know."
"I see," returned Squeers, throwing himself back in his chair, and waving his hand.
"And this," resumed Snawley, "has made me anxious to put them to some school a good distance off, where there are no holidays—none of those ill-judged comings home twice a year that unsettle children's minds so—and where they may rough it a little—you comprehend?"
"The payments regular, and no questions asked," said Squeers, nodding his head.
"That's it, exactly," rejoined the other. "Morals strictly attended to, though."
"Strictly," said Squeers.
"Not too much writing home allowed, I suppose?" said the father-in-law, hesitating.
"None, except a circular at Christmas, to say that they never were so happy, and hope they may never be sent for," rejoined Squeers.
