Chapter 24 Chapter Twenty-Three

(Mr. Bumble had a pleasant conversation with a lady, showing that even a parson can be sentimental at certain times.) It was very cold this night.The snow was padded on the ground and condensed into a thick crust.Only floating in the path.The lumps of snow in the corner felt the howling wind. The wind found such a spoil, and seemed to become more violent and violent, grabbing the snowflakes aggressively and throwing them into the clouds, stirring the snow into countless white clouds. Vortex, scattered all over the sky.Night, bleak, dark, bitingly cold.On nights like this, people with well-fed families, well-fed and warm clothes sit around a roaring fire and thank God for their comfortable home.homeless.People suffering from hunger and cold are doomed to die by the side of the road.At such times, how many homeless people suffering from hunger close their eyes in our empty streets and alleys.Even if they deserved it, they deserve it; they'll never open their eyes to a more miserable world anyway.

This is just the scene outside the door.Presently Mrs Corney, the matron of the workhouse, was sitting in her cubicle before the blazing fire.This workhouse is the place where Oliver Twist was born, which has been introduced to readers earlier.Mrs. Coney glanced at a small round table and looked.With an air of complacency, there was a tray on the table that matched the round table, and the matrons had everything they needed to enjoy a meal to their heart's content.In fact, Mrs. Corney was planning to drink a cup of tea to relieve her boredom.She glanced over the round table and landed on the fireplace, where a kettle that couldn't be smaller was singing a ditty in a small voice, and the pleasure in her heart obviously increased a bit——Indeed, Koni The wife laughed.

"Ah," said the matron to herself, resting her elbows on the table and looking thoughtfully at the fire. "I can assure you, we all have a lot to be grateful for. There's so much, it's a pity we don't know it. Ah." Mrs. Coney shook her head sadly, as if deeply sorry that the ignorant poor should not understand this, and plunged a silver spoon (property) into a two-ounce tin teapot, and proceeded to Make tea. Really, a trivial thing is enough to break the peace of our fragile hearts.The black teapot was so small that it overflowed easily. Mrs. Coney was discussing moral issues, the tea in the pot overflowed, and Mrs. Coney's hand was slightly burned.

"Damn the teapot!" cursed the venerable matron, and hastily placed the teapot by the fire. "Stupid little bauble, only holds two glasses. Nobody's going to use it. Except," Mrs. Corney paused, "except a lonesome woman like me. God!" The matron slumped down on her chair, leaned her elbows on the table again, and thought of her miserable fate.The little teapot, the unpaired cups, aroused in her the mourning for Mr. Corney (he had been dead more than twenty-five years ago), and she could not bear it. "I can't find it any more," said Mrs. Corney, curiously. "I can't find it any more—like that."

No one knew whether the words were referring to the husband or the teapot.It must have been the latter, for Mrs. Corney kept her eyes on the teapot as she spoke, and then picked it up again.She had just finished her first cup of tea when she was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. "Oh, come in," Mrs. Corney said sharply. "I reckon those old ladies are going to die. They always pick me to die when I'm eating. Don't stand there and let the air-conditioning in, really. What's the matter, huh?" "It's nothing, ma'am, it's nothing." A man's voice answered.

"Oh, yo." The matron exclaimed, her voice becoming much softer. "Mr. Bumble?" "Happy to be of your service, ma'am," said Mr. Bumble, who was just outside the door, wiping the mud off his shoes and shaking the snow off his coat, holding his three-cornered hat with one hand and the other with the other. He walked in with a bag in his hand. "Shall the door be shut, ma'am?" The matron, somewhat embarrassed, delayed answering, and it was somewhat indecent to see Mr. Bumble behind closed doors.Bumble, taking advantage of her hesitating and waiting for further instructions, shut the door, and he was indeed froze.

"Certain weather, Mr. Bumble," said the matron. "Very well, ma'am, that's it," answered the rector. "This weather is not good for a parish, ma'am. We'll take out four pounds, Mrs. Coney, just this damn afternoon." Twenty heavy loaves, one and a half pieces of cheese, that's not enough for the poor." "Of course it's not enough, Mr. Bumble, when were they ever satisfied?" said the matron, sipping her tea. "When, ma'am, is that so," replied Mr. Bumble, "but there is a man just now, on account of his wife and a large family, who has received a four-pound loaf and a full pound Cheese, there's a lot of it. Did he thank you, ma'am, did he thank you? It's not worth a penny. What's he doing, ma'am, come for some more coal, he said, as long as a full Little handkerchiefs. Coal. Did he want dry coal? To bake his cheese, and then come back for more. Madame, these people always do the same thing, give them an apron full of coal one day, and come back the next day Ask for another apron, you have a thick skin like plaster."

The matron expressed herself in full agreement with the brilliant metaphor, and the rector went on, "I never saw anything so black. The day before yesterday there was a man—ma'am, you have been around, who can tell you —a man, almost naked (Mrs. Corney looked straight to the floor at this), ran up to the door of our commissioner for the poor, who was giving dinner, Mrs. Corney, he said It was impossible to get some relief. He refused to go, the guests were very angry, and our commissioner gave him a pound of potatoes and half a pint of cereal. The ungrateful wretch actually said: 'My God, this thing can have What's the use? Why don't you give me a pair of iron-rimmed glasses.''Excellent,' said our commissioner, taking it back. 'You can't get anything else.' said the rascal: 'Then I'll die in the street. on.’ Our commissioner said, ‘Ah, no, you won’t.’”

"Ha ha! That's wonderful. Quite like Mr. Granlitt, isn't it?" interposed the matron. "Mr. Bumble, what happened?" "Well, ma'am," answered the rector, "he went away, and he did die in the street. There are always poor-minded paupers. What can you do?" "I can't believe it," the Matron emphasized emphatically. "But, Mr. Bumble, don't you think that street relief is a very bad thing after all? You are a very sensible gentleman, and ought to know, tell me." "Mrs. Corney," said the men, feeling the smiles of their superior knowledge spread over the faces of the rector. "Street relief, well done, ma'am, well done for the defense of the parish, and the first principle of street relief is to give poor boys only what they don't need, and then they don't want to come again."

"My God!" exclaimed Mrs. Corney. "Then it's a good thing!" "Yes, ma'am, it's all right between you and me," replied Mr. Bumble, "that's the first principle, and that's the trick. Look at any case in the bold papers, and you'll You will find that the relief given to sick families is a few sticks of cheese. Mrs. Coney, this is a rule that prevails all over the country. Besides," said the secretary, bending down and opening the package he brought, "these are official Confidential, I should say, except for those who hold parish duties like ours, madam, don't tell it to outsiders. Ma'am, this is a red wine ordered by the council for the infirmary, a real fresh and pure red wine, and it will be out in the morning The barrel is as pure as anything, without any precipitation."

Mr. Bumble held the first bottle of wine to the lamp, shook it skillfully, and proved that the quality was indeed high. Then he put the two bottles of wine together on the top of the cabinet, folded the handkerchief that had been used to wrap the wine, and carefully carried the bottle. He put it in his pocket, picked up his hat, and seemed to be about to say goodbye. "Don't freeze you on this journey, Mr. Bumble," said the matron. "It's quite a wind, ma'am," replied Mr. Bumble, turning up his collar. "Can cut off people's ears." The matron's eyes shifted from the teapot to the rectory, who was walking towards the door.The secretary coughed and was about to say good night to her, but the matron asked with a blushing face, could it be that he wouldn't even drink a cup of tea? Immediately after saying this, Mr. Bumble turned down his collar again, put his hat and cane on one chair, and dragged the other to the table.He sat down slowly in his chair, taking the time to cast a glance at the lady.Her eyes were fixed on the little teapot.Mr. Bumble coughed again and smiled a little. Mrs. Corney stood up and took another set of glasses and saucers from the closet.When she sat back in the chair, she met the rector's sympathetic eyes once again, her face turned crimson, and she hurried to make tea for him.Mr. Bumble coughed again--a much louder one than before. "You prefer your drink sweeter, Mr. Bumble?" asked the matron, holding the sugar bowl in her hand. "I like sweets, really, ma'am," Mr. Bumble kept his eyes on Mrs. Corney as he said this.If ever a parson can be very tender, it was Mr. Bumble at this time. When the tea was ready, he handed it to him silently.Mr. Bumble spread a handkerchief over his knees, so that no crumbs would stain his pretty leggings, and began his tea.To give some variety to these pleasures, he uttered a long sigh now and then, but this had no ill effect on his appetite, on the contrary, the tea and bread seemed to go more smoothly. "I found you kept a dog, ma'am," said Mr. Bumble, who caught sight of a dog surrounded by her family, snuggling up in front of the fire. "And kittens, I daresay." "You can't imagine how much I like them, Mr. Bumble," replied the matron; "they are so jovial, and mischievous, and delightful, that they are almost my companions." "They're lovely little animals, ma'am," Mr. Bumble agreed, "and so tame." "Oh, no," said the Matron cheerily, "they're so attached to their home, I'm sure it's a lot of fun." "Mrs. Corney, ma'am," said Mr. Bumble slowly, counting the time for himself with a teaspoon. "I mean, ma'am, no matter the big cat or the kitten, if he can live with you, ma'am, he will have no affection for this family. Ma'am, that must be a stupid ass." "Oh, Mr. Bumble," protested Mrs. Corney. "You can't ignore the facts, ma'am," said Mr. Bumble, with a slow, affectionate and dignified wave of the teaspoon which made a doubly impressive impression. "I would have the honor of drowning such a cat myself." "You're a man with a heart of stone," said the matron lively, holding out her hand for the rector's teacup. "I have to add one more thing, a man with a hard heart." "So hard-hearted, ma'am, hard-hearted?" Mr. Bumble handed over the teacup without further words. Mrs. Corney took the cup, and he pinched her little finger, sighed heavily, and opened two He slapped his own piping vest and moved the chair slightly away from the fireplace. Mrs. Coney and Mr. Bumble were originally sitting opposite each other, with a round table between them and a fireplace in front of them. The distance between them could not be said to be very large.It may be imagined that Mr. Bumble was now stepping back from the fire, keeping close to the table, and thus increasing the distance between him and Mrs. Corney—a move which will no doubt be appreciated by some considerate readers, see It was a marvelously gallant move on Mr. Bumble's part.Mr. Bumble was now more or less tempted by time, place, and opportunity, to blurt out some tender nonsense, which would not matter if uttered by a class of thoughtless frivolities, if It would seem a great deal of disgrace to come from the mouths of dignified judges, councilors, ministers, mayors, and other dignitaries.This is especially true of the majesty and gravity of a parson, a class of men (which is well known) more serious and unsmiling than all these great men. Whatever Mr. Bumble's intentions (and certainly the noblest ones), unfortunately, as already mentioned twice, the table is round, and Mr. The distance began to shorten after a while, and he continued to move along the outer edge of the circle, losing no time in bringing his chair close to that of the matron.Indeed, the two chairs touched, and at the same moment Mr. Bumble stopped. At this time, if the matron moved the chair to the right, she would get angry, and if she moved to the left, she would definitely fall into Mr. Bumble's arms, so (the thoughtful matron saw the two things clearly at a glance. result), she sat quite still, and handed Mr. Bumble another cup of tea. "Isn't that hard-hearted, Mrs. Corney?" said Bumble, stirring the tea, looking up into the Matron's face. "Are you hard-hearted, Mrs. Corney?" "Dear me!" cried the matron, "such a curious question as you can ask a single man, Mr. Bumble, why do you ask it?" The steward drank his tea to the last drop, ate another slice of bread, shook the crumbs off his knees, wiped his mouth, and kissed the matron in a leisurely manner. "Mr. Bumble," murmured the considerate lady, whose panic had been so severe that she could hardly speak. "Mr. Bumble, I'm going to shout." Bumble made no answer, but put his arms around the Matron's waist in a slow but dignified gesture. Just when the lady said she was going to cry out--as she rightly did for such an extravagant insolence--an urgent knock on the door rendered the intention superfluous.Mr. Bumble jumped aside with extraordinary agility at the knock at the door, and began dusting the bottles vigorously, while the matron asked sharply who was there.It is worth mentioning that her voice had fully recovered its uncompromising bureaucracy, a wonderful example of how effectively the unexpected can counteract the effects of extreme fear. "Madam, please excuse me," a shriveled, ugly poor woman stuck her head in from the door. "Old Sally is almost done." "Yo, what does it have to do with me?" the matron said angrily. "She's going to die and you can't keep her, can you?" "Yes, yes, ma'am," answered the old woman, "nobody can keep her, she's never cured. I've seen many people die, little babies, strong men, I've seen them all. Know what it's like to die. But she can't let it go, it's hard to swallow, and when she doesn't have a fit -- which doesn't happen often -- she says she has something to say, and you have to listen, madam. , if you don't go there, she will never die in peace." Hearing the news, the venerable Mrs. Coney muttered and cursed at those old women. They had to disturb their superiors before they would close their eyes. Then they hurriedly grabbed a thick scarf and wrapped it around their bodies, and cut to the point Ask Mr. Bumble to wait until he comes back, saying that he is afraid that something special will happen.Mrs. Coney ordered the old woman who reported the message to keep her legs and feet fast, so as not to dally on the stairs all night, and then followed the old woman out of the room, with a very gloomy face, cursing and swearing. Mr. Bumble's behavior after being left alone was rather inexplicable.He opened the closet, counted the teaspoons, weighed the sugar-cube tongs, and examined a silver milk jug to make sure of its texture.Satisfied with the above-mentioned curiosities, he put his three-cornered hat on one side on his head, and, with solemn dance steps, made four different circles around the table.At the end of this extraordinary performance, he took off his hat, and, with his back to the fire, flung himself back in his chair, as if he were making a list of furniture in his mind.