great impression was
made by it, as they were pretty sure of getting into trouble tomorrow,
do what they would, and thought it wise, no doubt, to enjoy themselves
today.

It was, properly, a half-holiday; being Saturday. But as the noise in
the playground would have disturbed Mr. Creakle, and the weather was
not favourable for going out walking, we were ordered into school in the
afternoon, and set some lighter tasks than usual, which were made for
the occasion. It was the day of the week on which Mr. Sharp went out to
get his wig curled; so Mr. Mell, who always did the drudgery, whatever
it was, kept school by himself. If I could associate the idea of a bull
or a bear with anyone so mild as Mr. Mell, I should think of him, in
connexion with that afternoon when the uproar was at its height, as of
one of those animals, baited by a thousand dogs. I recall him bending
his aching head, supported on his bony hand, over the book on his desk,
and wretchedly endeavouring to get on with his tiresome work, amidst an
uproar that might have made the Speaker of the House of Commons giddy.
Boys started in and out of their places, playing at puss in the corner
with other boys; there were laughing boys, singing boys, talking boys,
dancing boys, howling boys; boys shuffled with their feet, boys whirled
about him, grinning, making faces, mimicking him behind his back and
before his eyes; mimicking his poverty, his boots, his coat, his mother,
everything belonging to him that they should have had consideration for.

'Silence!' cried Mr. Mell, suddenly rising up, and striking his desk
with the book. 'What does this mean! It's impossible to bear it. It's
maddening. How can you do it to me, boys?'

It was my book that he struck his desk with; and as I stood beside him,
following his eye as it glanced round the room, I saw the boys all stop,
some suddenly surprised, some half afraid, and some sorry perhaps.

Steerforth's place was at the bottom of the school, at the opposite end
of the long room. He was lounging with his back against the wall, and
his hands in his pockets, and looked at Mr. Mell with his mouth shut up
as if he were whistling, when Mr. Mell looked at him.

'Silence, Mr. Steerforth!' said Mr. Mell.

'Silence yourself,' said Steerforth, turning red. 'Whom are you talking
to?'

'Sit down,' said Mr. Mell.

'Sit down yourself,' said Steerforth, 'and mind your business.'

There was a titter, and some applause; but Mr. Mel