coughed,—louder this time than he had coughed yet.
"Sweet? Mr. Bumble," inquired the matron, taking up the sugar-basin.
"Very sweet, indeed, ma'am," replied Mr. Bumble. He fixed his eyes on Mrs. Corney as he said this; and, if ever a beadle looked tender, Mr. Bumble was that beadle at that moment.
The tea was made, and handed in silence. Mr. Bumble, having spread a handkerchief over his knees to prevent the crumbs from sullying the splendour of his shorts, began to eat and drink; varying these amusements occasionally by fetching a deep sigh, which, however, had no injurious effect upon his appetite, but on the contrary rather seemed to facilitate his operations in the tea and toast department.
"You have a cat, ma'am, I see," said Mr. Bumble, glancing at one, who in the centre of her family was basking before the fire; "and kittens too, I declare!"
"I am so fond of them, Mr. Bumble, you can't think," replied the matron. They're so
