'But next door to him though.'
'You can't mean Smike?' cried Miss Squeers, clapping her hands.
'Yes, I can though,' rejoined her father. 'I've got him, hard and fast.'
'Wa'at!' exclaimed John Browdie, pushing away his plate. 'Got that
poor--dom'd scoondrel? Where?'
'Why, in the top back room, at my lodging,' replied Squeers, 'with him
on one side, and the key on the other.'
'At thy loodgin'! Thee'st gotten him at thy loodgin'? Ho! ho! The
schoolmeasther agin all England. Give us thee hond, mun; I'm darned but
I must shak thee by the hond for thot.--Gotten him at thy loodgin'?'
'Yes,' replied Squeers, staggering in his chair under the congratulatory
blow on the chest which the stout Yorkshireman dealt him; 'thankee.
Don't do it again. You mean it kindly, I know, but it hurts rather. Yes,
there he is. That's not so bad, is it?'
'Ba'ad!' repeated John Browdie. 'It's eneaf to scare a mun to hear tell
on.'
'I thought it would surprise you a bit,' said Squeers, rubbing his
hands. 'It was pretty neatly done, and pretty quick too.'
'Hoo wor it?' inquired John, sitting down close to him.
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