So saying, he dismissed his first class to their experiments in practical philosophy.
It was Squeers's custom to call the boys together, and make a sort of report, after every half-yearly visit to the metropolis. They were therefore soon recalled from the house, window, garden, stable, and cow yard, and Mr. Squeers entered the room. A deathlike silence immediately prevailed.
"Boys, I've been to London, and have returned to my family and you as strong and as well as ever."
According to half-yearly custom, the boys gave three feeble cheers at this refreshing intelligence. Such cheers! Sighs of extra strength with the chill on.
"I have seen the parents of some boys, and they're so glad to hear how their sons are getting on, that there's no prospect at all of their going away, which of course is a very pleasant thing to reflect upon for all parties. But I've had disappointments to contend against. Bolder's father was two pound ten short. Where is Bolder?
"Here he is, please, sir."
"Come here, Bolder," said Squeers.
An unhealthy boy with warts all over his hands, stepped from his place to the Master's desk, and raised his eyes imploringly to Squeers's face.
"Bolder, if your father thinks that because—why, what's this, sir?"
As Squeers spoke, he caught up the boy's hand by the cuff of his jacket, and surveyed the warts with an edifying aspect of horror and disgust.