'Ain't you!' retorted Squeers, with a diabolical look. 'Now then, come
along.'
'I leave such society, with my pa, for Hever,' said Miss Squeers,
looking contemptuously and loftily round. 'I am defiled by breathing
the air with such creatures. Poor Mr Browdie! He! he! he! I do pity him,
that I do; he's so deluded. He! he! he!--Artful and designing 'Tilda!'
With this sudden relapse into the sternest and most majestic wrath, Miss
Squeers swept from the room; and having sustained her dignity until the
last possible moment, was heard to sob and scream and struggle in the
passage.
John Browdie remained standing behind the table, looking from his wife
to Nicholas, and back again, with his mouth wide open, until his hand
accidentally fell upon the tankard of ale, when he took it up, and
having obscured his features therewith for some time, drew a long
breath, handed it over to Nicholas, and rang the bell.
'Here, waither,' said John, briskly. 'Look alive here. Tak' these things
awa', and let's have soomat broiled for sooper--vary comfortable and
plenty o' it--at ten o'clock. Bring soom brandy and soom wather, and a
pair o' slippers--the largest pair in the house--and be quick aboot it.
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