When he had cooled sufficiently to be enabled to give his present
circumstances some little reflection, they did not appear in a very
encouraging light; he had only four shillings and a few pence in his
pocket, and was something more than two hundred and fifty miles
from London, whither he resolved to direct his steps, that he might
ascertain, among other things, what account of the morning's proceedings
Mr Squeers transmitted to his most affectionate uncle.

Lifting up his eyes, as he arrived at the conclusion that there was no
remedy for this unfortunate state of things, he beheld a horseman coming
towards him, whom, on nearer approach, he discovered, to his infinite
chagrin, to be no other than Mr John Browdie, who, clad in cords and
leather leggings, was urging his animal forward by means of a thick ash
stick, which seemed to have been recently cut from some stout sapling.

'I am in no mood for more noise and riot,' thought Nicholas, 'and yet,
do what I will, I shall have an altercation with this honest blockhead,
and perhaps a blow or two from yonder staff.'

In truth, there appeared some reason to expect that such a result would
follow from the encounter, for John Browdie no sooner saw Nicholas
advancing, than he reined in his horse by the footpath, and waited until
such time as he should come up; looking meanwhile, very sternly between
the horse's ears, at Nicholas, as he came on at his leisure.

'Servant, young genelman,' said John.

'Yours,' said Nicholas.

'Weel; we ha' met at last,' observed John, making the stirrup ring under
a smart touch of the ash stick.

'Yes,' replied Nicholas, hesitating. 'Come!' he said, frankly, after a
moment's pause, 'we parted on no very good terms the last time we met;
it was my fault, I believe; but I had no intention of offending you, and
no idea that I was doing so. I was very sorry for it, afterwards. Will
you shake hands?'

'Shake honds!' cried the good-humoured Yorkshireman; 'ah! that I weel;'
at the same time, he bent down from the saddle, and gave Nicholas's fist
a huge wrench: 'but wa'at be the matther wi' thy feace, mun? it be all
brokken loike.'

'It is a cut,' said Nicholas, turning scarlet as he spoke,--'a blow; but
I returned it to the giver, and with good interest too.'

'Noa, did 'ee though?' exclaimed John Browdie. 'Well deane! I loike 'un
for thot.'

'The fact is,' said Nicholas, not very well knowing how to make the
avowal, 'the fact is, that I