and demanding to know what she was whimpering for, drew his coat-sleeve over his eyes and blubbered outright.
"Telle'e waa't though," said John seriously, when a great deal had been said on both sides, "to return to schoolmeasther: if this news aboot 'un has reached school to-day, the old 'ooman wean't have a whole boan in her boddy, nor Fanny neither."
"Oh John!" cried Mrs. Browdie.
"Ah! and Oh John agean," replied the Yorkshireman. "I dinnot know what they lads mightn't do. "When it first got aboot that schoolmeasther was in trouble, soom feythers and moothers sent and took their young chaps awa'. If them as is left should know waa'ts coom tiv'un, there'll be sike a revolution and rebel!—Ding! But I think they'll a' gang daft, and spill bluid like wather!"
In fact John Browdie's apprehensions were so strong that he determined to ride over to the school without delay, and invited Nicholas to accompany him, which however he declined, pleading that his presence might perhaps aggravate the bitterness of their adversity.
"Thot's true !" said John, "I should ne'er ha thought o' thot."
"I must return to-morrow," said Nicholas, "but I mean to dine with you to-day, and if Mrs. Browdie can give me a bed—"
"Bed!" cried John, "I wish thou could'st sleep in fower beds at once. Ecod thou should'st have 'em a'. Bide till I coom back, on'y bide till I coom back, and ecod we'll mak' a day of it."
Giving his wife a hearty kiss, and Nicholas a no less hearty shake of the hand, John mounted his horse and rode off: leaving Mrs. Browdie to apply herself to hospitable preparations, and his young friend to stroll about the neighbourhood, and revisit spots which were rendered familiar to him by many a miserable association.
John cantered away, and arriving at Dotheboys Hall tied his horse to a gate and made his way to the schoolroom door, which he found locked on the inside, A tremendous noise and riot arose from within, and applying his eye to a convenient crevice in the wall, he did not remain long in ignorance of its meaning.
The news of Mr. Squeers's downfall had reached Dotheboys; that was quite clear. To all appearance it had very recently become known to the young gentlemen, for the rebellion had just broken out.
It was one of the brimstone-and-treacle mornings, and Mrs. Squeers had entered school according to custom with the large bowl and spoon, followed by Miss Squeers and the amiable Wackford, who during his father's absence had taken upon him such minor branches of the executive as kicking the pupils with his nailed boots, pulling the hair of some of the smaller boys, pinching the others in aggravating places, and rendering himself in various similar ways a great comfort and happiness to his mother. Their entrance, whether by premeditation or a simultaneous impulse, was the signal of revolt. While one detachment rushed to the door and locked it, and another mounted upon the desks and forms, the stoutest (and consequently the newest) boy seized the cane, and confronting Mrs. Squeers with a stern countenance, snatched off her cap and beaver-bonnet, put it on his own head, armed himself with the wooden spoon, and bade her, on pain of death, go
