While one detachment
rushed to the door and locked it, and another mounted the desks and forms,
the stoutest (and consequently the newest) boy seized the cane, and,
confronting Mrs. Squeers with a stern countenance, snatched off her cap
and beaver bonnet, put it on his own head, armed himself with the wooden
spoon, and bade her, on pain of death, go down upon her knees and take a
dose directly. Before that estimable lady could recover herself, or offer
the slightest retaliation, she was forced into a kneeling posture by a
crowd of shouting tormentors, and compelled to swallow a spoonful of the
odious mixture, rendered more than usually savoury by the immersion in the
bowl of Master Wackford's head, whose ducking was entrusted to another
rebel. The success of this first achievement prompted the malicious crowd,
whose faces were clustered together in every variety of lank and
half-starved ugliness, to further acts of outrage. The leader was
insisting upon Mrs. Squeers repeating her dose, Master Squeers was
undergoing another dip in the treacle, when John Browdie, bursting open
the door with a vigorous kick, rushed to the rescue. The shouts, screams,
groans, hoots, and clapping of hands, suddenly ceased, and a dead silence
ensued.
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