Stranica 63 [63]
35
* Yes,” replied Oliver.
(c Ain’t you afraid of it, sir? Ain’t you
a-trembling while I speak, sir?” said Mr.
Bumble.
6 No!” replied Oliver, boldly.
. An answer so different from the one he
had expected to elicit, and was in the
habit of receiving, staggered Mr. Bumble
not a little. He stepped back from the
keyhole, drew himself up to his full height,
and looked from one to another of the three
bystanders in mute astonishment.
* Oh, you know, Mr. Bumble, he must
be mad,” said Mrs. Sowerberry. “ No bo
in half his senses could venture to spea
so to you.”
“It’s not madness, ma’am,” replied Mr.
Bumble, after a few moments of deep
meditation; “it’s meat.”
c What!” exclaimed Mrs. Sowerberry.
cc Meat, ma’am, meat,” replied Bumble,
with stern emphasis. “ You’ve over-fed
him, ma’am. You’ve raised a artificial
soul and spirit in him, ma’am, unbecomin
a person of his condition, as the board,
Mrs. Sowerberry, who are practical phi¬
losophers, will tell you. What have pau¬
pers to do with soul or spirit either? It’s
quite enough that we let ’em have live
bodies. If you had kept the boy on gruel,
ma’am, this would never have ret ey:
“ Dear, dear!" ejaculated Mrs. Sower¬
berry, piously raising her eyes to the
kitchen ceiling. “ This veh of being
liberal !”
The liberality of Mrs. Sowerberry to
Oliver had consisted in a profuse bestowal
upon him of all the dirty odds and ends
which nobody else would eat ; so that there
was a great deal of meekness and self
devotion in her voluntarily remaining un¬
der Mr. Bumble’s heavy accusation, of
which, to do her justice, she was wholly
innocent in thought, word, or deed.
“ Ah!" said Mr. Bumble, when the lady
brought her eyes down to earth again.
“'The only thing that can be done now,
that I know of, is to leave him in the cel¬
lar for a day or so till he’s a little starved
down, and then to take him out, and keep
him on = all through his apprentice¬
ship. He comes of a bad family—excita¬
ble natures, Mrs. Sowerberry. Both the
nurse and doctor said that that mother of
his made her way here against difficulties
and pain that would have killed any well¬
woman weeks before.’’
At this point of Mr. Bumble’s dis¬
course, Oliver just hearing enough to
know that same further allusion was being
made to his mother, recommenced kicking
with a violence which rendered every
other sound inaudible. Sowerberry re¬
turned at this juncture, and Oliver’s
offence having been explained to him, with
such exaggerations as the ladies thought
best calculated to rouse his ire, he unlock¬
ed the cellar-door in a twinkling, and
dragged his rebellious apprentice out by
the collar,
Oliver’s clothes had been torn in the
beating he had-received; his face was
bruised and scratched, and his hair scat¬
tered over his forehead. ‘The angry flush
had not disappeared, however; and when
he was pulled out of his prison, he
scowled boldly on Noah, and looked quite
undismayed.
“ Now, you are a nice young fellow,
ain’t you?” said Sowerberry, giving Oli¬
ver a shake, and a sound box on the ear.
‘“‘ He called my mother names,” replied
Oliver, sullenly.
“Well, and what if he did, you little
ungrateful wretch?’ said Mrs. Sower¬
berry. “She deserved what he said, and
worse."
“She didn’t !" said Oliver.
“She did!” said Mrs. Sowerberry.
“Tt’s a lie!" said Oliver.
Mrs. Sowerberry burst into a flood of
tears.
This flood of tears left Sowerberry no
alternative. If he had hesitated for one
instant to punish Oliver most severely, it
must be quite clear to every experienced
reader that he would have been, according
to all precedents in disputes of matrimon
established, a brute, an unnatural husband,
an insulting creature, a base imitation of
a man, and various other agreeable char¬
acters too numerous for recital within the
limits of this chapter. To do him justice,
he was, as far as his power went,—it
was not very extensive,—kindly disposed
towards the boy; perhaps because it was
his interest to be so, perhaps because his
wife disliked him. The ood of tears,
however, left him no resource; so he at
once gave him a when § which satisfied
even Mrs. Sowerberry herself, and ren¬
dered Mr. Bumble’s s uent applica¬
tion of the parochial cane rather unneces¬
sary. For the rest of the day he was shut
up in the back kitchen, in company with
a pump and a slice of bread; and, at night,
Mrs. Sowerberry, after making various
remarks outside the door, by no means
complimentary to the memory of his mo¬
ther, looked into the room, and, amidst the
ordered him up stairs to his dismal bed. .
It was not until he was left alone in the
silence and stillness of the gloomy Work