'Him in the next box?' said Snawley.

Squeers nodded in the affirmative; his companion took another peep at
the little boy on the trunk, and, turning round again, looked as if he
were quite disappointed to see him so much like other boys, and said he
should hardly have thought it.

'He is,' cried Squeers. 'But about these boys of yours; you wanted to
speak to me?'

'Yes,' replied Snawley. 'The fact is, I am not their father, Mr Squeers.
I'm only their father-in-law.'

'Oh! Is that it?' said the schoolmaster. 'That explains it at once. I
was wondering what the devil you were going to send them to Yorkshire
for. Ha! ha! Oh, I understand now.'

'You see I have married the mother,' pursued Snawley; 'it's expensive
keeping boys at home, and as she has a little money in her own right, I
am afraid (women are so very foolish, Mr Squeers) that she might be led
to squander it on them, which would be their ruin, you know.'

'I see,' returned Squeers, throwing himself back in his chair, and
waving his hand.

'And this,' resumed Snawley, 'has made me anxious to put them to some
school a good distance off, where there are no holidays--none of those
ill-judged coming home twice a year that unsettle children's minds
so--and where they may rough it a little--you comprehend?'