After some half-hour's delay, Mr. Squeers reappeared, and the boys took
their places and their books, and ranged themselves in front of the
schoolmaster's desk.
"This is the class in English spelling, and philosophy, Nickleby," said
Squeers, beckoning Nicholas to stand beside him. "We'll get up a Latin
one, and hand that over to you. Now, then, where's the first boy?"
"Please, sir, he's cleaning the back parlour window," answered one of the
class.
"So he is, to be sure," rejoined Squeers. "We go upon the practical mode
of teaching, Nickleby; the regular education system. C-l-e-a-n, clean,
verb active, to make bright, to scour. When the boy knows this out of
book, he goes and does it. Where's the second boy?"
"Please, sir, he's weeding the garden," replied a small voice.
"To be sure," said Squeers. "So he is. B-o-t, bot, t-i-n, tin, n-e-y, ney,
bottinney, noun substantive, a knowledge of plants. Third boy, what's a
horse?"
"A beast, sir," replied the boy.
"So it is," said Squeers. "Ain't it, Nickleby?"
"I believe there is no doubt of that, sir," answered Nicholas.
"Of course there isn't," said Squeers. "A horse is a quadruped, and
quadruped's Latin for beast, as every body that's gone through the grammar
knows.
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