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Hard weather, Mr. Bumble, said the matron.
Hard,
indeed, maam, replied the beadle. Anti-porochial weather this, maam. 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, maam! rejoined Mr. Bumble. Why, heres 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, maam, is he grateful? Not a copper farthings worth of it! What does he do, maam, but ask for a few coals, if its 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. Thats the way with these people, maam; give em a apron full of coals to-day, and theyll came back for another the day after to-morrow, 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 its got to. The day afore yesterday, a man you have been a married woman, maam, 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 overseers door when he has got company coming to dinner, and says, he must be relieved, Mrs. Corney. As he wouldnt go away, and shocked the company very much, our overseer sent him out a pound of potatoes and half a pint of oatmeal. My God! says the ungrateful villain, whats 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 wont get anything else here. Then Ill die in the streets! says the vagrant. Oh no, you wont, says our overseer.
Ha! ha! that was very good! so like Mr. Grannet, wasnt it? interposed the matron. Well, Mr. Bumble?
Well, maam, rejoined the beadle, he went away and did die in the streets. Theres a obstinate pauper for you!
It beats anything I could have believed, observed the matron, emphatically. But dont you think out-of-door relief a very bad thing any way, Mr. Bumble? Youre a gentleman of experience, and ought to know. Come.
Mrs. Corney, said the beadle, smiling as men smile who are conscious of superior information, out-of-door relief, properly managed, properly managed, maam, is the porochial safeguard. The great principle of out-of-door relief is to give the paupers exactly what they dont 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, maam, returned Mr. Bumble, thats the great principle; and thats the reason why, if you look at any cases that get into them owdacious newspapers, youll always observe that sick families have been relieved with slices of cheese. Thats the rule now, Mrs. Corney, all over the country. But, however, said the beadle, stooping to unpack his bundle, these are official secrets, maam; not to be spoken of except, as I may say, among the porochial officers, such as ourselves. This is the port wine, maam, that the board ordered for the infirmary, real, fresh, genuine port wine, only out of the cask this afternoon, 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 the 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.
Youll have a very cold walk, Mr. Bumble, said the matron.
It blows, maam, replied Mr. Bumble, turning up his coat-collar, enough to cut ones 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 he wouldnt 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, maam, replied Mr. Bumble.
than Mr. Bumble darted with much agility to the wine-bottles, and began dusting them with great violence, while the matron sharply demanded who was there. It is worthy of remark, as a curious physical instance of the efficacy of a sudden surprise in counteracting the effects of extreme fear, that her voice had quite recovered all its official asperity.