'Half-past three,' muttered Mr Squeers, turning from the window, and
looking sulkily at the coffee-room clock. 'There will be nobody here
today.'

Much vexed by this reflection, Mr Squeers looked at the little boy to
see whether he was doing anything he could beat him for. As he happened
not to be doing anything at all, he merely boxed his ears, and told him
not to do it again.

'At Midsummer,' muttered Mr Squeers, resuming his complaint, 'I took
down ten boys; ten twenties is two hundred pound. I go back at eight
o'clock tomorrow morning, and have got only three--three oughts is an
ought--three twos is six--sixty pound. What's come of all the boys?
what's parents got in their heads? what does it all mean?'

Here the little boy on the top of the trunk gave a violent sneeze.

'Halloa, sir!' growled the schoolmaster, turning round. 'What's that,
sir?'

'Nothing, please sir,' replied the little boy.

'Nothing, sir!' exclaimed Mr Squeers.

'Please sir, I sneezed,' rejoined the boy, trembling till the little
trunk shook under him.

'Oh! sneezed, did you?' retorted Mr Squeers. 'Then what did you say
"nothing" for, sir?'