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Chapter 37

           ‘WhatdoYOUdohere?’

           ‘Ithoughttheyweretalkingrathertoomuchtobedoingtheirworkproperly,mydear,’repliedMr.Bumble:glancingdistractedlyatacoupleofoldwomenatthewash-tub,whowerecomparingnotesofadmirationattheworkhouse-master’shumility.

           ‘YOUthoughttheyweretalkingtoomuch?’saidMrs.Bumble.‘Whatbusinessisitofyours?’

           ‘Why,mydearurgedMr.Bumblesubmissively.

           ‘Whatbusinessisitofyours?’demandedMrs.Bumble,again.

           ‘It’sverytrue,you’rematronhere,mydear,’submittedMr.Bumble;‘butIthoughtyoumightn’tbeinthewayjustthen.

           ‘I’lltellyouwhat,Mr.Bumble,’returnedhislady.‘Wedon’twantanyofyourinterference.You’reagreatdealtoofondofpokingyournoseintothingsthatdon’tconcernyou,makingeverybodyinthehouselaugh,themomentyourbackisturned,andmakingyourselflooklikeafooleveryhourintheday.Beoff;come!’

           Mr.Bumble,seeingwithexcruciatingfeelings,thedelightofthetwooldpaupers,whoweretitteringtogethermostrapturously,hesitatedforaninstant.Mrs.Bumble,whosepatiencebrookednodelay,caughtupabowlofsoap-suds,andmotioninghimtowardsthedoor,orderedhiminstantlytodepart,onpainofreceivingthecontentsuponhisportlyperson.

           WhatcouldMr.Bumbledo?Helookeddejectedlyround,andslunkaway;and,ashereachedthedoor,thetitteringsofthepaupersbrokeintoashrillchuckleofirrepressibledelight.Itwantedbutthis.

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