Mr Wackford Squeers – staying at the Snow Street Inn in North London – needs a teacher for his school in Yorkshire. Call today.
Yorkshire was for away, in the north-east of England, but Nicholas was excited.
‘Perhaps our luck is changing!’ he thought.
‘We must go and see Mr Squeers immediately, before he gives the job to another young man,’ said Ralph Nickleby.
When Nicholas and his uncle arrived at the inn, Squeers was busy with some new students. He was a short man, about fifty years old. He had only one greeny-grey eye in his face, where people usually prefer two, and he looked very strange in his black suit, which was too long him in the arms, and too short for him in the legs.
‘Mr Squeers, this is my nephew, Mr Nicholas Nickleby.
We’re here because of your newspaper advertisement,’ said Ralph Nickleby.
‘He’s too young to be a teacher,’ Squeers said at once, looking at Nicholas.
But after talking quietly with Ralph Nickleby for a while, he turned back to Nicholas with a smile, saying, ‘The job is yours. Our coach leaves at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.
Be here early to help with the new students.’
‘Certainly,’ replied Nicholas. And to his uncle he said, ‘I shall never forget how kind you’ve been.’
The next day, Nicholas said goodbye sadly to his sister and his mother at the inn.
‘How will they survive without me?’ he thought with a heavy heart.
Just before Nicholas got onto the coach, someone pushed a letter into his hand. It was Newman Noggs, Ralph Nickleby’s clerk. Nicholas quickly put it into his pocket.
The journey to Yorkshire was long and hard, and they stooped at different inns on the way. Squeers ate a lot at every meal, but gave very little food to the students who were with him.
‘He worries more about the cost of the meals than he does about those poor, hungry boy,’ thought Nicholas.
In the evening of second day, they arrived in Yorkshire. They was snow everywhere, and in front of them was a long, low building with dark windows. It looked cold and unpleasant. This was the school – Dotheboys Hall.
Inside Mrs Squeers was waiting for them. She looked at Nicholas coldly, then turned to her husband.
‘How is my Squeery?’ she said.
‘Very well my love,’ replied Squeers. ‘How are the cows and the other animals?’
‘Very well.’
‘And the boys?’ asked Squeers.
‘Oh, they’re well, too,’ replied Mrs Squeers quickly in a hare voice.
After that, they talked about parents who paid their debts to the school and parents who couldn’t pay. Then Mrs Squeers put a cold supper on the table for her husband – and for Nicholas, Squeers ate and drank a lot; Nicholas had only a little. Then they all went to bed. Before he went to sleep on his bed on the floor upstairs, Nicholas took Noggs’s letter from his pocket and read it: