Oldal 132 [132]
92
CHAPTER THE FIRST,
Which contains the substance of a pleasant con¬
versation between Mr. Bumble and a lady; and
shows that even a beadle may he susceptible on
some points.
THE night was bitter cold; the snow
lay upon the ground frozen into a hard
had drifted into by-ways and corners were
affected by the sharp wind that howled
abroad, which, as if expending increased
fury on such preys as it found, caught it
savagely up in clouds, and, whirling it
into a thousand misty eddies, scattered it
in air. Bleak, dark, and piercing cold, it
was a night for the well-housed and fed
to draw round the bright fire, and thank
God they were at home; and for the
homeless starving wretch to lay him down
and die. Many hunger-worn outcasts
close their eyes in our bare streets at such
times, who, let their crimes have been
what they may, can hardly open them in
a more bitter world.
Such was the aspect of out-of-door
affairs when Mrs. Corney, the matron of
the workhouse to which our readers have
been already introduced as the birth-place
of Oliver Twist, set herself down before
a cheerful fire in her own little room, and
glanced with no small degree of compla¬
cency at a small round table, on which
stood a tray of corresponding size, fur¬
nished with all necessary materials for the
most grateful meal that matrons enjcy.
In fact, Mrs. Corney was about to solace
herself with a cup of tea: and as she
glanced from the table to the fireplace,
where the smallest of all possible kettles
was singing a small song in a small voice,
her inward satisfaction evidently increased
-—so much so, indeed, that Mrs. Corney
smiled.
“ Well,” said the matron, leaning her
elbow on the table, and looking reflective¬
ly at the fire, “I’m sure we have all on
us a great deal to be grateful for—a great
deal, if we did but know it. Ah!
Mrs. Corney shook her head mournfully,
as if deploring the mental blindness of
paupers who did not know it, and, thrust¬
ing a silver spoon (private property) into
the inmost recesses of a two-ounce tin
tea-caddy, proceeded to make the tea.
How slight a thing will disturb the
equanimity of our frail minds! The
black teapot, being very small and easily
filled, ran over while Mrs. Corney was
moralizing, and the water slightly scalded
Mrs. Corney’s hand.
c Drat the pot!” said the worthy matron,
setting it down very hastily on the hob;
“a little stupid thing, that only holds a
couple of cups! What use is it of to
anybody "except," said Mrs. Corney,
pausing,—* except to a poor desolate crea¬
ture like me. Oh dear!”
With these words the matron dropped
into her chair, and, once more resting her
elbow on the table, thought of her solitary
fate. ‘The small teapot and the single
cup had awakened in her mind sad recol¬
lections of Mr. Corney, (who had not
been dead more than five-and-twenty
years,) and she was overpowered.
cc JT shall never get another !” said Mrs.
Corney pettishly, “I shall never get an¬
other—like him!"
Whether this remark bore reference to
the husband or the teapot is uncertain.
It might have been the latter; for Mrs.
Corney looked at it as she spoke, and took
it up afterwards. She had just tasted her
first cup, when she was disturbed by a
soft tap at the room door.
s Oh, come in with yoy!” said Mrs.
Corney sharply. “Some of the old wo¬
men dying, | suppose ;—they always die
when I’m at meals. Don’t stand there,
letting the cold air in, don’t! What’s
amiss now, eh ?”’
c Nothing, ma’am, nothing,” replied a
man’s voice.
“ Dear me!" exclaimed the matron in
a much sweeter tone, “is that Mr. Bum¬
ble ?”
6 At your service, ma’am,” said Mr.
Bumble, who had been stopping outside
to rub his shoes clean, and shake the snow
off his coat, and who now made his appear¬
ance, bearing the cocked-hat in one hand
and a bundle in the other. “Shall I shut
the door, ma’am 7?”
The lady modestly hesitated to reply,
lest there should be any impropriety in
holding an interview with Mr. Bumble
with closed doors. Mr. Bumble, taking
advantage of the hesitation, and being
very cold himself, shut it without farther
permission.
“ Hard weather, Mr. Bumble,” said the
matron.