ng, 'like the present.'

'Sir, to you!' said Mr. Creakle.

'I take my leave of you, Mr. Creakle, and all of you,' said Mr. Mell,
glancing round the room, and again patting me gently on the shoulders.
'James Steerforth, the best wish I can leave you is that you may come to
be ashamed of what you have done today. At present I would prefer to see
you anything rather than a friend, to me, or to anyone in whom I feel an
interest.'

Once more he laid his hand upon my shoulder; and then taking his
flute and a few books from his desk, and leaving the key in it for his
successor, he went out of the school, with his property under his arm.
Mr. Creakle then made a speech, through Tungay, in which he thanked
Steerforth for asserting (though perhaps too warmly) the independence
and respectability of Salem House; and which he wound up by shaking
hands with Steerforth, while we gave three cheers--I did not quite know
what for, but I supposed for Steerforth, and so joined in them ardently,
though I felt miserable. Mr. Creakle then caned Tommy Traddles for
being discovered in tears, instead of cheers, on account of Mr. Mell's
departure; and went back to his sofa, or his bed, or wherever he had
come from.

We were left to ourselves now, and looked very blank, I recollect, on
one another. For myself, I felt so much self-reproach and contrition for
my part in what had happened, that nothing would have enabled me to keep
back my tears but the fear that Steerforth, who often looked at me, I
saw, might think it unfriendly--or, I should rather say, considering our
relative ages, and the feeling with which I regarded him, undutiful--if
I showed the emotion which distressed me. He was very angry with
Traddles, and said he was glad he had caught it.

Poor Traddles, who had passed the stage of lying with his head upon the
desk, and was relieving himself as usual with a burst of skeletons, said
he didn't care. Mr. Mell was ill-used.

'Who has ill-used him, you girl?' said Steerforth.

'Why, you have,' returned Traddles.

'What have I done?' said Steerforth.

'What have you done?' retorted Traddles. 'Hurt his feelings, and lost
him his situation.'

'His feelings?' repeated Steerforth disdainfully. 'His feelings will
soon get the better of it, I'll be bound. His feelings are not like
yours, Miss Traddles. As to his situation--which was a precious one,
wasn't it?--do you suppose I am not going to write home, and take care
that he gets som