over the matron, "what is this, ma'am? has any thing happened, ma'am? Pray answer me; I'm on—on—" Mr. Bumble in his alarm could not immediately think of the word "tenter-hooks," so he said "broken bottles."
"Oh Mr. Bumble!" cried the lady, "I have been so dreadfully put out!"
"Put out, ma'am!" exclaimed Mr. Bumble; "who has dared to—? I know!" said Mr. Bumble, checking himself with native majesty, "this is them wicious paupers!"
"It's dreadful to think of!" said the lady, shuddering.
"Then don't think of it, ma'am," rejoined Mr. Bumble.
"I can't help it," whimpered the lady.
"Then take something, ma'am," said Mr. Bumble soothingly. "A little of the wine?"
"Not for the world!" replied Mrs. Corney. "I couldn't,—oh! The top shelf in the right-hand corner— oh!" Uttering these words, the good lady pointed distractedly to the cupboard, and underwent a convulsion from internal