'Let him deny it,' said Steerforth.

'Deny that he is a beggar, Steerforth?' cried Mr. Creakle. 'Why,
where does he go a-begging?'

'If he is not a beggar himself, his near relation's one,' said
Steerforth. 'It's all the same.'

He glanced at me, and Mr. Mell's hand gently patted me upon the
shoulder. I looked up with a flush upon my face and remorse in my
heart, but Mr. Mell's eyes were fixed on Steerforth. He continued
to pat me kindly on the shoulder, but he looked at him.

'Since you expect me, Mr. Creakle, to justify myself,' said
Steerforth, 'and to say what I mean, - what I have to say is, that
his mother lives on charity in an alms-house.'

Mr. Mell still looked at him, and still patted me kindly on the
shoulder, and said to himself, in a whisper, if I heard right:
'Yes, I thought so.'

Mr. Creakle turned to his assistant, with a severe frown and
laboured politeness:

'Now, you hear what this gentleman says, Mr. Mell. Have the
goodness, if you please, to set him right before the assembled
school.'

'He is right, sir, without correction,' returned Mr. Mell, in the
midst of a dead silence; 'what he has said is true.'