If he shows his face near it, mine assumes an imploring and submissive expression.
If he looks out through the glass, the boldest boy (Steerforth excepted) stops in the middle of a shout or yell, and becomes contemplative.

One day, Traddles (the most unfortunate boy in the world) breaks that window accidentally, with a ball.

I shudder at this moment with the tremendous sensation of seeing it done, and feeling that the ball has bounded on to Mr.Creakle's sacred head.
Poor Traddles! In a tight sky-blue suit that made his arms and legs like German sausages, or roly-poly puddings, he was the merriest and most miserable of all the boys.

He was always being caned--I think he was caned every day that half-year, except one holiday Monday when he was only ruler'd on both hands--and was always going to write to his uncle about it, and never did.

After laying his head on the desk for a little while, he would cheer up, somehow, begin to laugh again, and draw skeletons all over his slate, before his eyes were dry.