`Yes; but I don't believe a word of it. If he's a gentleman's son at all, he's a fondling, that's my opinion.'

`Mrs Squeers intended to say `foundling,' but, as she frequently remarked when she made any such mistake, it would be all the same a hundred years hence; with which axiom of philosophy, indeed, she was in the constant habit of consoling the boys when they laboured under more than ordinary ill-usage.

`He's nothing of the kind,' said Squeers, in answer to the above remark, `for his father was married to his mother years before he was born, and she is alive now. If he was, it would be no business of ours, for we make a very good friend by having him here; and if he likes to learn the boys anything besides minding them, I have no objection I am sure.'

`I say again, I hate him worse than poison,' said Mrs Squeers vehemently.

`If you dislike him, my dear,' returned Squeers, `I don't know anybody who can show dislike better than you, and of course there's no occasion, with him, to take the trouble to hide it.'

`I don't intend to, I assure you,' interposed Mrs S.

`That's right,' said Squeers; `and if he has a touch of pride about him, as I think he has, I don't believe there's woman in all England that can bring anybody's spirit down, as quick as you can, my love.'

Mrs Squeers chuckled vastly on the receipt of these flattering compliments, and said, she hoped she had tamed a high spirit or two in her day. It is but due to her character to say, that in conjunction with her estimable husband, she had broken many and many a one.

Miss Fanny Squeers carefully treasured up this, and much more conversation on the same subject, until she retired for the night, when she questioned the hungry servant, minutely, regarding the outward appearance and demeanour of Nicholas; to which queries the girl returned such enthusiastic replies, coupled with so many laudatory remarks touching his beautiful dark eyes, and his sweet smile, and his straight legs--upon which last-named articles she laid particular stress; the general run of legs at Dotheboys Hall being crooked--that Miss Squeers was not long in arriving at the conclusion that the new usher must be a very remarkable person, or, as she herself significantly phrased it, `something quite out of the common.' And so Miss Squeers made up her mind that she would take a personal observation of Nicholas the very next day.

In pursuance of this design, the young lady watched the opportunity of her mother being engaged, and her father absent, and went accidentally into the schoolroom to get a pen mended: where, seeing nobody but Nicholas presiding over the boys, she blushed very deeply, and exhibited great confusion.

`I beg your pardon,' faltered Miss Squeers; `I thought my father was--or might be--dear me, how very awkward!'

`Mr Squeers is out,' said Nicholas, by no means overcome by the apparition, unexpected though it was.

`Do you know will he be long, sir?' asked Miss Squeers, with bashful hesitation.

`He said about an hour,' replied Nicholas--politely of course, but without any indication of being stricken to the heart by Miss Squeers's charms.

`I never knew anything happen so cross,' exclaimed the young lady. `Thank you! I am very sorry I intruded, I am sure. If I hadn't thought my father was here, I wouldn't upon any account have--it is very provoking-- must look so very strange,' murmured Miss Squeers, blushing once more, and glancing, from the pen in her hand, to Nicholas at his desk, and back again.

`If that is all you want,' said Nicholas, pointing to the pen, and smiling, in spite of himself, at the affected embarrassment of the schoolmaster's daughter, `perhaps I can supply his place.'