ced at the
letters with a look so keen, and yet so dispirited and hopeless, that
Nicholas could hardly bear to watch him.

'What are you bothering about there, Smike?' cried Mrs Squeers; 'let the
things alone, can't you?'

'Eh!' said Squeers, looking up. 'Oh! it's you, is it?'

'Yes, sir,' replied the youth, pressing his hands together, as though to
control, by force, the nervous wandering of his fingers. 'Is there--'

'Well!' said Squeers.

'Have you--did anybody--has nothing been heard--about me?'

'Devil a bit,' replied Squeers testily.

The lad withdrew his eyes, and, putting his hand to his face, moved
towards the door.

'Not a word,' resumed Squeers, 'and never will be. Now, this is a pretty
sort of thing, isn't it, that you should have been left here, all these
years, and no money paid after the first six--nor no notice taken, nor
no clue to be got who you belong to? It's a pretty sort of thing that I
should have to feed a great fellow like you, and never hope to get one
penny for it, isn't it?'

The boy put his hand to his head as if he were making an effort to
recollect something, and then, looking vacantly at his questioner,
gradually broke into a smile, and limped away.

'I'll tell you what, Squeers,' remarked his wife as the door closed, 'I
think that young chap's turning silly.'

'I hope not,' said the schoolmaster; 'for he's a handy fellow out of
doors, and worth his meat and drink, anyway. I should think he'd have
wit enough for us though, if he was. But come; let's have supper, for I
am hungry and tired, and want to get to bed.'

This reminder brought in an exclusive steak for Mr Squeers, who speedily
proceeded to do it ample justice. Nicholas drew up his chair, but his
appetite was effectually taken away.

'How's the steak, Squeers?' said Mrs S.

'Tender as a lamb,' replied Squeers. 'Have a bit.'

'I couldn't eat a morsel,' replied his wife. 'What'll the young man
take, my dear?'

'Whatever he likes that's present,' rejoined Squeers, in a most unusual
burst of generosity.

'What do you say, Mr Knuckleboy?' inquired Mrs Squeers.

'I'll take a little of the pie, if you please,' replied Nicholas. 'A
very little, for I'm not hungry.'

Well, it's a pity to cut the pie if you're not hungry, isn't it?' said
Mrs Squeers. 'Will you try a bit of the beef?'

'Whatever you please,' replied Nicholas abstractedly; 'it's all the same
to me.'

Mrs Squeers looked vastly gracious on receiving