'Coom, coom, schoolmeasther,' said John, 'dinnot make a fool o' thyself;
for if I was to sheake mine--only once--thou'd fa' doon wi' the wind o'
it.'
'It was you, was it,' returned Squeers, 'that helped off my runaway boy?
It was you, was it?'
'Me!' returned John, in a loud tone. 'Yes, it wa' me, coom; wa'at o'
that? It wa' me. Noo then!'
'You hear him say he did it, my child!' said Squeers, appealing to his
daughter. 'You hear him say he did it!'
'Did it!' cried John. 'I'll tell 'ee more; hear this, too. If thou'd
got another roonaway boy, I'd do it agean. If thou'd got twonty roonaway
boys, I'd do it twonty times ower, and twonty more to thot; and I
tell thee more,' said John, 'noo my blood is oop, that thou'rt an old
ra'ascal; and that it's weel for thou, thou be'est an old 'un, or I'd
ha' poonded thee to flour when thou told an honest mun hoo thou'd licked
that poor chap in t' coorch.'
'An honest man!' cried Squeers, with a sneer.
'Ah! an honest man,' replied John; 'honest in ought but ever putting
legs under seame table wi' such as thou.'
'Scandal!' said Squeers, exultingly.
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