Олівер Твіст

Chapter 17

           ‘Theyarebothinaverylowstate,andwefinditwouldcometwopoundcheapertomove’emthantobury’emthatis,ifwecanthrow’emuponanotherparish,whichIthinkweshallbeabletodo,iftheydon’tdieupontheroadtospiteus.Ha!ha!ha!’

           WhenMr.Bumblehadlaughedalittlewhile,hiseyesagainencounteredthecockedhat;andhebecamegrave.

           ‘Weareforgettingbusiness,ma’am,’saidthebeadle;‘hereisyourporochialstipendforthemonth."

           Mr.Bumbleproducedsomesilvermoneyrolledupinpaper,fromhispocket-book;andrequestedareceipt:whichMrs.Mannwrote.

           ‘It’sverymuchblotted,sir,’saidthefarmerofinfants;‘butit’sformalenough,Idaresay.Thankyou,Mr.Bumble,sir,Iamverymuchobligedtoyou,I’msure.

           Mr.Bumblenodded,blandly,inacknowledgmentofMrs.Mann’scurtsey;andinquiredhowthechildrenwere.

           ‘Blesstheirdearlittlehearts!’saidMrs.Mannwithemotion,‘they’reaswellascanbe,thedears!Ofcourse,exceptthetwothatdiedlastweek.AndlittleDick.

           ‘Isn’tthatboynobetter?’inquiredMr.Bumble.

           Mrs.Mannshookherhead.

           ‘He’saill-conditioned,wicious,bad-disposedporochialchildthat,’saidMr.Bumbleangrily.‘Whereishe?’

           ‘I’llbringhimtoyouinoneminute,sir,’repliedMrs.Mann.‘Here,youDick!’

           Aftersomecalling,Dickwasdiscovered.Havinghadhisfaceputunderthepump,anddrieduponMrs.Mann’sgown,hewasledintotheawfulpresenceofMr.Bumble,thebeadle.

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