"He is off," said Mrs. Squeers. "The cow-house and stable are locked up, so he can't be there; and he's not down-stairs anywhere, for the girl has looked. He must have gone York way, and by a public road, too."
"Why must he?" inquired Squeers.
"Stupid!" said Mrs. Squeers, angrily. "He hadn't any money, had he?"
"Never had a penny of his own in his whole life, that I know of," replied Squeers.
"To be sure," rejoined Mrs. Squeers, "and he didn't take anything to eat with him; that I'll answer for. Ha! ha! ha!"
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Squeers.
"Then, of course," said Mrs. S., "he must beg his way, and he could do that nowhere but on the public road."
"That's true," exclaimed Squeers, clapping his hands.
"True! yes; but you would never have thought of it for all that, if I hadn't said so," replied his wife. "Now, if you take the chaise and go one road, and I borrow Swallow's chaise and go the other, what with keeping our eyes open, and asking questions, one or other of us is pretty sure to lay hold of him."
The worthy lady's plan was adopted and put in execution without a moment's delay. After a hasty breakfast, and the prosecution of some inquiries in the village, the result of which seemed to show that he was on the right track, Squeers started forth in the pony-chaise, intent upon discovery and vengeance. Shortly afterwards, Mrs. Squeers, arrayed in the white topcoat and tied up in various shawls and handkerchiefs, issued forth in another chaise in another direction, taking with her a good-sized bludgeon, several odd pieces of strong cord, and a stout labouring man; all provided and carried upon the expedition with the sole object of assisting in the capture, and (once caught) insuring the safe custody of the unfortunate Smike.