oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第44部分

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over　while　Mrs。　Corney　was　moralising；　and　the　water　slightly　
scalded　Mrs。　Corney’s　hand。　

“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　creature　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　recollections　of　Mr。　Corney　（who　had　not　been　dead　more　than　
five…and…twenty　years）；　and　she　was　overpowered。　

“I　shall　never　get　another！”　said　Mrs。　Corney　pettishly；　“I　shall　
never　get　another—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　

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room　door。　

“Oh；　come　in　with　you！”　said　Mrs。　Corney　sharply。　“Some　of　the　
old　women　dying；　I　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？”　

“Nothing；　ma’am；　nothing；”　replied　a　man’s　voice。　

“Dear　me！”　exclaimed　the　matron；　in　a　much　sweeter　tone；　“is　
that　Mr。　Bumble？”　

“At　your　service；　ma’am；”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　who　had　been　
stopping　outside　to　rub　his　shoes　clean；　and　to　shake　the　snow　off　
his　coat：　and　who　now　made　his　appearance；　bearing　the　cocked　
hat　in　one　hand　and　a　bundle　in　the　other。　“Shall　I　shut　the　door；　
ma’am？”　

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　permission。　

“Hard　weather；　Mr。　Bumble；”　said　the　matron。　

“Hard；　indeed；　ma’am；”　replied　the　beadle。　“Anti…parochial　
weather；　this；　ma’am。　We　have　given　away；　Mrs。　Corney；　we　have　
given　away　a　matter　of　twenty　quartern　loaves　and　a　cheese　and　a　
half；　this　very　blessed　afternoon；　and　yet　them　paupers　are　not　
contented。”　

“Of　course　not。　When　would　they　be；　Mr。　Bumble？”　said　the　
matron；　sipping　her　tea。　

“When；　indeed；　ma’am！”　rejoined　Mr。　Bumble。　“Why；　here’s　
one　man　that；　in　consideration　of　his　wife　and　large　family；　has　a　
quartern　loaf　and　a　good　pound　of　cheese；　full　weight。　Is　he　
grateful；　ma’am？　Is　he　grateful？　Not　a　copper　farthing’s　worth　of　

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it！　What　does　he　do；　ma’am；　but　ask　for　a　few　coals；　if　it’s　only　a　
pocket…handkerchief　full；　he　says！　Coals！　What　would　he　do　with　
coals？　Toast　his　cheese　with　’em；　and　then　come　back　for　more。　
That’s　the　way　with　these　people；　ma’am；　give　’em　a　apron　full　of　
coals　today；　and　they’ll　come　back　for　another；　the　day　after　
tomorrow；　as　brazen　as　alabaster。”　

The　matron　expressed　her　entire　concurrence　in　this　
intelligible　simile；　and　the　beadle　went　on。　

“I　never；”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　“see　anything　like　the　pitch　it’s　got　
to。　The　day　afore　yesterday；　a　man—you　have　been　a　married　
woman；　ma’am；　and　I　may　mention　it　to　you—a　man；　with　hardly　a　
rag　upon　his　back　（here　Mrs。　Corney　looked　at　the　floor）；　goes　to　
our　overseer’s　door　when　he　has　got　company　coming　to　dinner；　
and　says；　he　must　be　relieved；　Mrs。　Corney。　As　he　wouldn’t　go　
away；　and　shocked　the　company　very　much；　our　overseer　sent　him　
out　a　pound　of　potatoes　and　half　a　pint　of　oatmeal。　‘My　heart！’　says　
the　ungrateful　villain；　‘what’s　the　use　of　this　to　me？　You　might　as　
well　give　me　a　pair　of　iron　spectacles！’　‘Very　good；’　says　our　
overseer；　taking　’em　away　again；　‘you　won’t　get　anything　else　
here。’　‘Then　I’ll　die　in　the　streets！’　says　the　vagrant。　‘Oh；　no；　you　
won’t；　says　our　overseer。’”　

“Ha！　ha！　That　was　very　good！　So　like　Mr。　Grannett；　wasn’t　it？”　
interposed　the　matron。　“Well；　Mr。　Bumble？”　

“Well；　ma’am；”　rejoined　the　beadle；　“he　went　away；　and　he　did　
die　in　the　streets。　There’s　a　obstinate　pauper　for　you！”　

“It　beats　anything　I　could　have　believed；”　observed　the　matron　
emphatically。　“But　don’t　you　think　out…of…door　relief　a　very　bad　
thing；　anyway；　Mr。　Bumble？　You’re　a　gentleman　of　experience；　
and　ought　to　know。　Come。”　

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“Mrs。　Corney；”　said　the　beadle；　smiling　as　men　smile　who　are　
conscious　of　superior　information；　“out…of…door　relief；　properly　
managed—properly　managed；　ma’am—is　the　parochial　safeguard。　
The　great　principle　of　out…of…door　relief　is；　to　give　the　paupers　
exactly　what　they　don’t　want；　and　then　they　get　tired　of　coming。”　

“Dear　me！”　exclaimed　Mrs。　Corney。　“Well；　that　is　a　good　one；　
too！”　

“Yes。　Betwixt　you　and　me；　ma’am；”　returned　Mr。　Bumble；　
“that’s　the　great　principle；　and　that’s　the　reason　why；　if　you　look　at　
any　cases　that　get　into　them　owdacious　newspapers；　you’ll　always　
observe　that　sick　families　have　been　relieved　with　slices　of　cheese。　
That’s　the　rule　now；　Mrs。　Corney；　all　over　the　country。　But；　
however；”　said　the　beadle；　stopping　to　unpack　his　bundle；　“these　
are　official　secrets；　ma’am；　not　to　be　spoken　of；　except；　as　I　may　
say；　among　the　parochial　officers；　such　as　ourselves。　This　is　the　
port　wine；　ma’am；　that　the　Board　ordered　for　the　infirmary：　real；　
fresh；　genuine　port　wine；　only　out　of　the　cask　this　forenoon；　clear　
as　a　bell；　and　no　sediment！”　

Having　held　the　first　bottle　up　to　the　light；　and　shaken　it　well　to　
test　its　excellence；　Mr。　Bumble　placed　them　both　on　top　of　a　chest　
of　drawers；　folded　the　handkerchief　in　which　they　had　been　
wrapped；　put　it　carefully　in　his　pocket；　and　took　up　his　hat；　as　if　to　
go。　

“You’ll　have　a　very　cold　walk；　Mr。　Bumble；”　said　the　matron。　

“It　blows；　ma’am；”　replied　Mr。　Bumble；　turning　up　his　coat…
collar；　“enough　to　cut　one’s　ears　off。”　

The　matron　looked；　from　the　little　kettle；　to　the　beadle；　who　was　
moving　towards　the　door；　and　as　the　beadle　coughed；　preparatory　
to　bidding　her　good…night；　bashfully　inquired　whether—whether　

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he　wouldn’t　take　a　cup　of　tea？　

Mr。　Bumble　instantaneously　turned　back　his　collar　again；　laid　
his　hat　and　stick　upon　a　chair；　and　drew　another　chair　up　to　the　
table。　As　he　slowly　seated　himself；　he　looked　at　the　lady。　She　fixed　
her　eyes　upon　the　little　teapot。　Mr。　Bumble　coughed　again；　and　
slightly　smiled。　

Mrs。　Corney　rose　to　get　another　cup　and　saucer　from　the　closet。　
As　she　sat　down；　her　eyes　once　again　encountered　those　of　the　
gallant　beadle；　she　coloured；　and　applied　herself　to　the　task　of　
making　his　tea。　Again　Mr。　Bumble　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　happy；　so　frolicsome；　and　so　cheerful；　that　
they　are　quite　companions　for　me。”　

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“Very　nice　animals；　ma’am；”　replied　Mr。　Bumble　approvingly；　
“so　very　domestic。”　

“Oh；　yes！”　rejoined　the　matron；　with　enthusiasm；　“so　fond　of　
their　home；　too；　that　it’s　quite　a　pleasure；　I’m　sure。”　

“Mrs。　Corney；　ma’am；”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　slowly；　and　marking　
the　time　with　his　teaspoon。　“I　mean　to　say　this；　ma’am；　that　any　
cat；　or　kitten；　that　could　live　with　you；　ma’am；　and　not　be　fond　of　
its　home；　must　be　a　ass；　ma’am。”　

“Oh；　Mr。　Bumble！”　remonstrated　Mrs。　Corney。　

“It’s　of　no　use　disguising　facts；　ma’am；”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　slowly　
flourishing　the　teaspoon　with　a　kind　of　amorous　dignity　which　
made　him　doubly　impressive；　“I　would　drown　it　myself；　with　
pleasure。”　

“Then　you’re　a　cruel　man；”　said　the　matron　vivaciously；　as　she　
held　out　her　hand　for　the　beadle’s　cup；　“and　a　very　hard…hearted　
man　besides。”　

“Hard…hearted；　ma’am？”　said　Mr。　Bumble。　“Hard？”　Mr。　
Bumble　resigned　his　cup　without　another　word；　squeezed　Mrs。　
Corney’s　little　finger　as　she　took　it；　and　inflicting　two　open…handed