Nicholas varies the Monotony of Dothebys Hall by amost vigorous and remarkable proceeding, whichleads to Consequences of some Importance.

　　The cold, feeble dawn of a January morning was stealing inat the windows of the common sleeping-room, whenNicholas, raising himself on his arm, looked among theprostrate forms which on every side surrounded him, as though insearch of some particular object.

　　It needed a quick eye to detect, from among the huddled massof sleepers, the form of any given individual. As they lay closelypacked together, covered, for warmth’s sake, with their patchedand ragged clothes, little could be distinguished but the sharpoutlines of pale faces, over which the sombre light shed the samedull heavy colour; with, here and there, a gaunt arm thrust forth:

　　its thinness hidden by no covering, but fully exposed to view, in allits shrunken ugliness. There were some who, lying on their backswith upturned faces and clenched hands, just visible in the leadenlight, bore more the aspect of dead bodies than of living creatures;and there were others coiled up into strange and fantasticpostures, such as might have been taken for the uneasy efforts ofpain to gain some temporary relief, rather than the freaks ofslumber. A few—and these were among the youngest of thechildren—slept peacefully on, with smiles upon their faces,dreaming perhaps of home; but ever and again a deep and heavysigh, breaking the stillness of the room, announced that some new sleeper had awakened to the misery of another day; and, asmorning took the place of night, the smiles gradually faded away,with the friendly darkness which had given them birth.

　　Dreams are the bright creatures of poem and legend, who sporton earth in the night season, and melt away in the first beam of thesun, which lights grim care and stern reality on their dailypilgrimage through the world.

　　Nicholas looked upon the sleepers; at first, with the air of onewho gazes upon a scene which, though familiar to him, has lostnone of its sorrowful effect in consequence; and, afterwards, witha more intense and searching scrutiny, as a man would whomissed something his eye was accustomed to meet, and hadexpected to rest upon. He was still occupied in this search, andhad half risen from his bed in the eagerness of his quest, when thevoice of Squeers was heard, calling from the bottom of the stairs.

　　‘Now then,’ cried that gentleman, ‘are you going to sleep all day,up there—’

　　‘You lazy hounds?’ added Mrs Squeers, finishing the sentence,and producing, at the same time, a sharp sound, like that which isoccasioned by the lacing of stays.

　　‘We shall be down directly, sir,’ replied Nicholas.

　　‘Down directly!’ said Squeers. ‘Ah! you had better be downdirectly, or I’ll be down upon some of you in less. Where’s thatSmike?’

　　Nicholas looked hurriedly round again, but made no answer.

　　‘Smike!’ shouted Squeers.

　　‘Do you want your head broke in a fresh place, Smike?’

　　demanded his amiable lady in the same key.

　　Still there was no reply, and still Nicholas stared about him, as did the greater part of the boys, who were by this time roused.

　　‘Confound his impudence!’ muttered Squeers, rapping thestair-rail impatiently with his cane. ‘Nickleby!’

　　‘Well, sir.’

　　‘Send that obstinate scoundrel down; don’t you hear mecalling?’

　　‘He is not here, sir,’ replied Nicholas.

　　‘Don’t tell me a lie,’ retorted the schoolmaster. ‘He is.’

　　‘He is not,’ retorted Nicholas angrily, ‘don’t tell me one.’

　　‘We shall soon see that,’ said Mr Squeers, rushing upstairs. ‘I’llfind him, I warrant you.’

　　With which assurance, Mr Squeers bounced into the dormitory,and, swinging his cane in the air ready for a blow, darted into thecorner where the lean body of the drudge was usually stretched atnight. The cane descended harmlessly upon the ground. Therewas nobody there.

　　‘What does this mean?’ said Squeers, turning round with a verypale face. ‘Where have you hid him?’

　　‘I have seen nothing of him since last night,’ replied Nicholas.

　　‘Come,’ said Squeers, evidently frightened, though heendeavoured to look otherwise, ‘you won’t save him this way.

　　Where is he?’

　　‘At the bottom of the nearest pond for aught I know,’ rejoinedNicholas in a low voice, and fixing his eyes full on the master’sface.

　　‘Damn you, what do you mean by that?’ retorted Squeers ingreat perturbation. Without waiting for a reply, he inquired of theboys whether any one among them knew anything of their missingschoolmate.

　　 There was a general hum of anxious denial, in the midst ofwhich, one shrill voice was heard to say (as, indeed, everybodythought):

　　‘Please, sir, I think Smike’s run away, sir.’

　　‘Ha!’ cried Squeers, turning sharp round. ‘Who said that?’

　　‘Tomkins, please sir,’ rejoined a chorus of voices. Mr Squeersmade a plunge into the crowd, and at one dive, caught a very littleboy, habited still in his night-gear, and the perplexed expression ofwhose countenance, as he was brought forward, seemed tointimate that he was as yet uncertain whether he was about to bepunished or rewarded for the suggestion. He was not long indoubt.

　　‘You think he has run away, do you, sir?’ demanded Squeers.

　　‘Yes, please sir,’ replied the little boy.

　　‘And what, sir,’ said Squeers, catching the little boy suddenly bythe arms and whisking up his drapery in a most dexterousmanner, ‘what reason have you to suppose that any boy wouldwant to run away from this establishment? Eh, sir?’

　　The child raised a dismal cry, by way of answer, and MrSqueers, throwing himself into the most favourable attitude forexercising his strength, beat him until the little urchin in hiswrithings actually rolled out of his hands, when he mercifullyallowed him to roll away, as he best could.

　　‘There,’ said Squeers. ‘Now if any other boy thinks Smike hasrun away, I shall be glad to have a talk with him.’

　　There was, of course, a profound silence, during which Nicholasshowed his disgust as plainly as looks could show it.

　　‘Well, Nickleby,’ said Squeers, eyeing him maliciously. ‘YOUthink he has run away, I suppose?’

　　 ‘I think it extremely likely,’ replied Nicholas, in a quiet manner.

　　‘Oh, you do, do you?’ sneered Squeers. ‘Maybe you know hehas?’

　　‘I know nothing of the kind.’

　　‘He didn’t tell you he was going, I suppose, did he?’ sneeredSqueers.

　　‘He did not,’ replied Nicholas; ‘I am very glad he did not, for itwould then have been my duty to have warned you in time.’

　　‘Which no doubt you would have been devilish sorry to do,’ saidSqueers in a taunting fashion.

　　‘I should indeed,’ replied Nicholas. ‘You interpret my feelingswith great accuracy.’

　　Mrs Squeers had listened to this conversation, from the bottomof the stairs; but, now losing all patience, she hastily assumed hernight-jacket, and made her way to the scene of action.

　　‘What’s all this here to-do?’ said the lady, as the boys fell offright and left, to save her the trouble of clearing a passage withher brawny arms. ‘What on earth are you a talking to him for,Squeery!’

　　‘Why, my dear,’ said Squeers, ‘the fact is, that Smike is not to befound.’

　　‘Well, I know that,’ said the lady, ‘and where’s the wonder? Ifyou get a parcel of proud-stomached teachers that set the youngdogs a rebelling, what else can you look for? Now, young man, youjust have the kindness to take yourself off to the schoolroom, andtake the boys off with you, and don’t you stir out of there till youhave leave given you, or you and I may fall out in a way that’ll spoilyour beauty, handsome as you think yourself, and so I tell you.’

　　‘Indeed!’ said Nicholas.

　　 ‘Yes; and indeed and indeed again, Mister Jackanapes,’ said theexcited lady; ‘and I wouldn’t keep such as you in the houseanother hour, if I had my way.’

　　‘Nor would you if I had mine,’ replied Nicholas. ‘Now, boys!’

　　‘Ah! Now, boys,’ said Mrs Squeers, mimicking, as nearly as shecould, the voice and manner of the usher. ‘Follow your leader,boys, and take pattern by Smike if you dare. See what he’ll get forhimself, when he is brought back; and, mind! I tell you that youshall have as bad, and twice as bad, if you so much as open yourmouths about him.’

　　‘If I catch him,’ said Squeers, ‘I’ll only stop short of flaying himalive. I give you notice, boys.’

　　‘IF you catch him,’ retorted Mrs Squeers, contemptuously; ‘youare sure to; you can’t help it, if you go the right way to work.

　　Come! Away with you!’

　　With these words, Mrs Squeers dismissed the boys, and after alittle light skirmishing with those in the rear who were pressingforward to get out of the way, but were detained for a fewmoments by the throng in front, succeeded in clearing the room,when she confronted her spouse alone.

　　‘He is off,’ said Mrs Squeers. ‘The cow-house and stable arelocked up, so he can’t be there; and he’s not downstairs anywhere,for the girl has looked. He must have gone York way, and by apublic road too.’

　　‘Why must he?’ inquired Squeers.

　　‘Stupid!’ said Mrs Squeers angrily. ‘He hadn’t any money, hadhe?’

　　‘Never had a penny of his own in his whole life, that I know of,’

　　replied Squeers.

　　 ‘To be sure,’ rejoined Mrs Squeers, ‘and he didn’t take anythingto eat with him; that I’ll answer for. Ha! ha! ha!’

　　‘Ha! ha! ha!’ laughed Squeers.

　　‘Then, of course,’ said Mrs S., ‘he must beg his way, and hecould do that, nowhere, but on the public road.’

　　‘That’s true,’ exclaimed Squeers, clapping his hands.

　　‘True! Yes; but you would never have thought of it, for all that,if I hadn’t said so,’ replied his wife. ‘Now, if you take the chaiseand go one road, and I borrow Swallow’s chaise, and go the other,what with keeping our eyes open, and asking questions, one orother of us is pretty certain to lay hold of him.’

　　The worthy lady’s plan was adopted and put in executionwithout a moment’s delay. After a very hasty breakfast, and theprosecution of some inquiries in the village, the result of whichseemed to show that he was on the right track, Squeers startedforth in the pony-chaise, intent upon discovery and vengeance.

　　Shortly afterwards, Mrs Squeers, arrayed in the white top-coat,and tied up in various shawls and handkerchiefs, issued forth inanother chaise and another direction, taking with her a good-sizedbludgeon, several odd pieces of strong cord, and a stout labouringman: all provided and carried upon the expedition, with the soleobject of assisting in the capture, and (once caught) insuring thesafe custody of the unfortunate Smike.

　　Nicholas remained behind, in a tumult of feeling, sensible thatwhatever might be the upshot of the boy’s flight, nothing butpainful and deplorable consequences were likely to ensue from it.

　　Death, from want and exposure to the weather, was the best thatcould be expected from the protracted wandering of so poor andhelpless a creature, alone and unfriended, through a country of which he was wholly ignorant. There was little, perhaps, to choosebetween this fate and a return to the tender mercies of theYorkshire school; but the unhappy being had established a holdupon his sympathy and compassion, which made his heart ache atthe prospect of the suffering he was destined to undergo. Helingered on, in restless anxiety, picturing a thousand possibilities,until the evening of next day, when Squeers returned, alone, andunsuccessful.

　　‘No news of the scamp!’ said the schoolmaster, who hadevidently been stretching his legs, on the old principle, not a fewtimes during the journey. ‘I’ll have consolation for this out ofsomebody, Nickleby, if Mrs Squeers don’t hunt him down; so Igive you warning.’

　　‘It is not in my power to console you, sir,’ said Nicholas. ‘It isnothing to me.’

　　‘Isn’t it?’ said Squeers in a threatening manner. ‘We shall see!’

　　‘We shall,’ rejoined Nicholas.

　　‘Here’s the pony run right off his legs, and me obliged to comehome with a hack cob, that’ll cost fifteen shillings besides otherexpenses,’ said Squeers; ‘who’s to pay for that, do you hear?’

　　Nicholas shrugged his shoulders and remained silent.

　　‘I’ll have it out of somebody, I tell you,’ said Squeers, his usualharsh crafty manner changed to open bullying ‘None of yourwhining vapourings here, Mr Puppy, but be off to your kennel, forit’s past your bedtime! Come! Get out!’

　　Nicholas bit his lip and knit his hands involuntarily, for hisfinger-ends tingled to avenge the insult; but remembering that theman was drunk, and that it could come to little but a noisy brawl,he contented himself with darting a contemptuous look at the tyrant, and walked, as majestically as he could, upstairs: not a littlenettled, however, to observe that Miss Squeers and MasterSqueers, and the servant girl, were enjoying the scene from a snugcorner; the two former indulging in many edifying remarks aboutthe presumption of poor upstarts, which occasioned a vast deal oflaughter, in which even the most miserable of all miserableservant girls joined: while Nicholas, stung to the quick, drew overhis head such bedclothes as he had, and sternly resolved that theoutstanding account between himself and Mr Squeers should besettled rather more speedily than the latter anticipated.

　　Another day came, and Nicholas was scarcely awake when heheard the wheels of a chaise approaching the house. It stopped.

　　The voice of Mrs Squeers was heard, and in exultation, ordering aglass of spirits for somebody, which was in itself a sufficient signthat something extraordinary had happened. Nicholas hardlydared to look out of the window; but he did so, and the very firstobject that met his eyes was the wretched Smike: so bedabbledwith mud and rain, so haggard and worn, and wild, that, but forhis garments being such as no scarecrow was ever seen to wear,he might have been doubtful, even then, of his identity.

　　‘Lift him out,’ said Squeers, after he had literally feasted hiseyes, in silence, upon the culprit. ‘Bring him in; bring him in!’

　　‘Take care,’ cried Mrs Squeers, as her husband proffered hisassistance. ‘We tied his legs under the apron and made ’em fast tothe chaise, to prevent his giving us the slip again.’

　　With hands trembling with delight, Squeers unloosened thecord; and Smike, to all appearance more dead than alive, wasbrought into the house and securely locked up in a cellar, untilsuch time as Mr Squeers should deem it expedient to operate upon him, in presence of the assembled school.

　　Upon a hasty consideration of the circumstances, it may bematter of surprise to some persons, that Mr and Mrs Squeersshould have taken so much trouble to repossess themselves of anincumbrance of which it was their wont to complain so loudly; buttheir surprise will cease when they are informed that the manifoldservices of the drudge, if performed by anybody else, would havecost the establishment some ten or twelve shillings per week in theshape of wages; and furthermore, that all runaways were, as amatter of policy, made severe examples of, at Dotheboys Hall,inasmuch as, in consequence of the limited extent of itsattractions, there was but little inducement, beyond the powerfulimpulse of fear, for any pupil, provided with the usual number oflegs and the power of using them, to remain.

　　The news that Smike had been caught and brought back intriumph, ran like wild-fire through the hungry community, andexpectation was on tiptoe all the morning. On tiptoe it wasdestined to remain, however, until afternoon; when Squeer............