As he happened not to be doing anything at all, he merely boxed his ears, and told him not to do it again.
'At Midsummer,' muttered Mr Squeers, resuming his complaint, 'I took down ten boys; ten twenties is two hundred pound.

I go back at eight o'clock tomorrow morning, and have got only three--three oughts is an ought--three twos is six--sixty pound.

What's come of all the boys?
what's parents got in their heads?
what does it all mean ?' Here the little boy on the top of the trunk gave a violent sneeze.
'Halloa, sir!' growled the schoolmaster, turning round.

'What's that, sir ?' 'Nothing, please sir,' replied the little boy.
'Nothing, sir!' exclaimed Mr Squeers.
'Please sir, I sneezed,' rejoined the boy, trembling till the little trunk shook under him.
'Oh! sneezed, did you ?' retorted Mr Squeers.

'Then what did you say "nothing" for, sir ?' In default of a better answer to this question, the little boy screwed a couple of knuckles into each of his eyes and began to cry, wherefore Mr Squeers knocked him off the trunk with a blow on one side of the face, and knocked him on again with a blow on the other.
'Wait till I get you down into Yorkshire, my young gentleman,' said Mr Squeers, 'and then I'll give you the rest.