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teen or fourteen. The undertaker at once
saw enough of what the room contained,
to know it was the apartment to which he
had been directed. He stepped in, and
Oliver followed him.
There was no fire in the room; but a
man was crouching mechanically over the
empty stove. An old woman, too, had
drawn a low stool to the cold hearth, and
was sitting beside him. There were some
ragged children in another corner; and
in a small recess opposite the door there
lay upon the ground something covered
with an old blanket. Oliver shuddered
as he cast his eyes towards the place, and
crept involuntarily closer to his master ;
for, though it was covered up, the boy
felt that it was a corpse.
The man’s face was thin and very pale;
eyes were bloodshot. The old woman’s
face was wrinkled, her two remaining
teeth protruded over her under lip, and
her eyes were bright and piercing. Olli¬
ver was afraid to look at either her or the
manyrzthey seemed so like the rats he had
seen outside.
“ Nobody shall go near her,” said the
man, starting fiercely up, as the under¬
taker approached the recess. “ Keep back!
ae you, keep back, if you’ve a life to
Ég
“Nonsense! my good man,” said the
undertaker, who was pretty well used to
misery in all its shapes,—“ nonsense !”
“T tell you,” said the man, clenching
his hands, and stamping furiously on the
floor,—* I tell you I won’t have her put
into the ground. She couldn’t rest there.
The worms would worry—not eat her,—
she is so worn away.”
The undertaker offered no reply to this
raving, but producing a tape from his
pocket, knelt down for a moment by the
side of the body.
* Ah!” said the man, bursting into tears,
and sinking on his knees at the feet of the
dead woman; “kneel down, kneel down
—kneel round her every one of you, and
mark my words. I say she starved to
death. never knew how bad she was,
till the fever came upon her, and then her
bones were starting through the skin.
There was neither fire nor candle; she
died in the dark—in the dark. She
couldn’t even see her children’s faces,
though we heard her gasping out their
names. I begged for her in the streets,
and they sent me to prison. When I
came back, she was dying; and all the
the God that saw it,—they starved her! —
He twined his hands in his hair, and with
a loud scream rolled grovelling upon the
floor, his eyes fixed, and the foam gushing
from his lips.
The terrified children cried bitterly ;
but the old woman, who had hitherto re¬
mained as quiet as if she had been wholly
deaf to all that passed, menaced them into
silence; and having unloosed the man’s
cravat, who still remained extended on the
ground, tottered towards the undertaker.
“She was my daughter,” said the old
woman, nodding her head in the direction
of the corpse, and speaking with an idiotic
leer, more ghastly than even the presence
of death itselfi— Lord, Lord !—well, it és
strange that I who gave birth to her, and
was a woman then, should be alive and
merry now, and she lying there, so cold
and stiff! Lord, Lord !—to think of it;—
it’s as good as a play—as good as a play !”
As the wretched creature mumbled and
chuckled in her hideous merriment, the
undertaker turned to go away.
“Stop, stop!” said the old woman in a
loud whisper. ‘“ Will she be buried to¬
morrow—or next day—or to-night? I laid
her out, and I must walk, you know. Send
me a large cloak—a good warm one, for
it is bitter cold. We should have cake
and wine, too, before we go! Never
mind: send some bread—only a loaf of
bread and a cup of water. Shall we have
some bread, dear?” she said eagerly,
catching at the undertaker’s coat, as he
once more moved towards the door.
“Yes, yes,” said the undertaker, “of
course; anything, everything.” He dis¬
engaged himself from the old woman’s
grasp, and, dragging Oliver after him,
hurried away.
The next day, (the family having been
meanwhile relieved with a half-quartern
loaf and a piece of cheese, left with them
by Mr. Bumble himself,) Oliver and his
master returned to the miserable abode,
where Mr. Bumble had already arrived,
accompanied by four men from the work¬
house, who were to act as bearers. An
old black cloak had been thrown over the
rags of the old woman and the man; the
bare coffin having been screwed down,
was then hoisted on the shoulders of the
bearers, and carried down stairs into the
street.
“ Now, you must put your best leg fore¬
most, old lady," whispered Sowerberry in
the old woman’s ear; § we are rather late,
and it won’t do to keep the clergyman