In default of a better answer to this question, the little boy screwed a
couple of knuckles into each of his eyes and began to cry, wherefore Mr
Squeers knocked him off the trunk with a blow on one side of the face,
and knocked him on again with a blow on the other.

'Wait till I get you down into Yorkshire, my young gentleman,' said Mr
Squeers, 'and then I'll give you the rest. Will you hold that noise,
sir?'

'Ye--ye--yes,' sobbed the little boy, rubbing his face very hard with
the Beggar's Petition in printed calico.

'Then do so at once, sir,' said Squeers. 'Do you hear?'

As this admonition was accompanied with a threatening gesture, and
uttered with a savage aspect, the little boy rubbed his face harder, as
if to keep the tears back; and, beyond alternately sniffing and choking,
gave no further vent to his emotions.

'Mr Squeers,' said the waiter, looking in at this juncture; 'here's a
gentleman asking for you at the bar.'

'Show the gentleman in, Richard,' replied Mr Squeers, in a soft voice.
'Put your handkerchief in your pocket, you little scoundrel, or I'll
murder you when the gentleman goes.'

The schoolmaster had scarcely uttered these words in a fierce whisper,
when the stranger entered. Affecting not to see him, Mr Squeers feigned
to be intent upon mending a pen, and offering benevolent advice to his
youthful pupil.