and the impossibility of reaching it, except on foot, should he feel ever so anxious to return, presented itself to him in most alarming colours; and as he looked up at the dreary house and dark windows, and upon the wild country round covered with snow, he felt a depres-sion of heart and spirit which he had never experienced before.
"Now then," cried Squeers, poking his head out at the front door. "Where are you, Nickleby?"
"Here, Sir?" replied Nicholas.
"Come in then," said Squeers, "the wind blows in at this door fit to knock a man off his legs."
Nicholas sighed and hurried in. Mr. Squeers having bolted the door to keep it shut, ushered him into a small parlour scantily furnished with a few chairs, a yellow map hung against the wall, and a couple of tables, one of which bore some preparations for supper; while on the other, a tutor's assistant, a Murray's grammar, half a dozen cards of terms, and a worn letter directed to Wackford Squeers, Esquire, were arranged in picturesque confusion.
They had not been in this apartment a couple of minutes when a female bounced into the room, and seizing Mr. Squeers by the throat gave him two loud kisses, one close after the other, like a postman's knock. The lady, who was of a large raw-boned figure, was about half a head taller than Mr. Squeers, and was dressed in a dimity night jacket with her hair in papers; she had also a dirty night-cap on, relieved by a yellow cotton handkerchief which tied it under the chin.
"How is my Squeery?" said this lady in a playful manner, and a very hoarse voice.
"Quite well, my love," replied Squeers. "How are the cows?"
"All right, every one of 'em," answered the lady.
"And the pigs?" said Squeers.
"As well as they were when you went away."
"Come; that's a blessing," said Squeers, pulling off his great-coat. "The boys are all as they were, I suppose?"
"Oh, yes, they're well enough," replied Mrs. Squeers, snappishly. "That young Pitcher's had a fever."
"No!" exclaimed Squeers. "Damn that boy, he's always at something of that sort."
"Never was such a boy, I do believe," said Mrs. Squeers; "whatever he has, is always catching too. I say it's obstinacy, and nothing shall ever convince me that it isn't. I'd beat it out of him, and I told you that six months ago."
"So you did, my love," rejoined Squeers. "We'll try what can be done."
Pending these little endearments, Nicholas had stood awkwardly enough in the middle of the room, not very well knowing whether he was expected to retire into the passage, or to remain where he was. He was now relieved from his perplexity by Mr. Squeers.
"This is the new young man, my dear," said that gentleman.
"Oh," replied Mrs. Squeers, nodding her head at Nicholas, and eyeing him coldly from top to toe.
