The three looked into each other's faces, and seemed to breathe more freely.
"There!" said Monks, closing the trap-door, which fell heavily back into its former position. "If the sea ever gives up its dead—as books say it will—it will keep its gold and silver to itself, and that trash among it. We have nothing more to say, and may break up our pleasant party."
"By all means," observed Mr. Bumble with great alacrity.
"You'll keep a quiet tongue in your head, will you?" said Monks, with a threatening look. "I am not afraid of your wife."
"You may depend upon me, young man," answered Mr. Bumble, bowing himself gradually towards the ladder with excessive politeness. "On every body's account, young man; on my own, you know, Mr. Monks."
"I am glad for your sake to hear it," remarked Monks. "Light your lantern, and get away from here as fast as you can."
It was fortunate that the conversation terminated at this point, or Mr. Bumble, who had