`In here -- in the house!' replied Miss Squeers. `My pa -- Mr Wackford Squeers -- he's stopping here. Is he at home?'

`I didn't know there was any gen'l'man of that name in the house, miss' replied the waiter. `There may be, in the coffee-room.'

May be. Very pretty this, indeed! Here was Miss Squeers, who had been depending, all the way to London, upon showing her friends how much at home she would be, and how much respectful notice her name and connections would excite, told that her father might be there! `As if he was a feller!' observed Miss Squeers, with emphatic indignation.

`Ye'd betther inquire, mun,' said John Browdie. `An' hond up another pigeon-pie, will 'ee? Dang the chap,' muttered John, looking into the empty dish as the waiter retired; `does he ca' this a pie -- three yoong pigeons and a troifling matther o' steak, and a crust so loight that you doant know when it's in your mooth and when it's gane? I wonder hoo many pies goes to a breakfast!'

After a short interval, which John Browdie employed upon the ham and a cold round of beef, the waiter returned with another pie, and the information that Mr Squeers was not stopping in the house, but that he came there every day and that directly he arrived, he should be shown upstairs. With this, he retired; and he had not retired two minutes, when he returned with Mr Squeers and his hopeful son.

`Why, who'd have thought of this?' said Mr Squeers, when he had saluted the party and received some private family intelligence from his daughter.

`Who, indeed, pa!' replied that young lady, spitefully. `But you see 'Tilda is married at last.'

`And I stond threat for a soight o' Lunnun, schoolmeasther,' said John, vigorously attacking the pie.

`One of them things that young men do when they get married,' returned Squeers; `and as runs through with their money like nothing at all! How much better wouldn't it be now, to save it up for the eddication of any little boys, for instance! They come on you,' said Mr Squeers in a moralising way, `before you're aware of it; mine did upon me.'

`Will 'ee pick a bit?' said John.

`I won't myself,' returned Squeers; `but if you'll just let little Wackford tuck into something fat, I'll be obliged to you. Give it him in his fingers, else the waiter charges it on, and there's lot of profit on this sort of vittles without that. If you hear the waiter coming, sir, shove it in your pocket and look out of the window, d'ye hear?'

`I'm awake, father,' replied the dutiful Wackford.

`Well,' said Squeers, turning to his daughter, `it's your turn to be married next. You must make haste.'

`Oh, I'm in no hurry,' said Miss Squeers, very sharply.

`No, Fanny?' cried her old friend with some archness.

`No, 'Tilda,' replied Miss Squeers, shaking her head vehemently. `I can wait.'

`So can the young men, it seems, Fanny,' observed Mrs Browdie.

`They an't draw'd into it by me, 'Tilda,' retorted Miss Squeers.

`No,' returned her friend; `that's exceedingly true.'


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