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gloomy shadow overspread his countenance。 Mr。 Bumble was
meditating； it might be that the insects brought to mind some
painful passage in his own past life。
Nor was Mr。 Bumble’s gloom the only thing calculated to
awaken a pleasing melancholy in the bosom of a spectator。 There
were not wanting other appearances； and those closely connected
with his own person； which announced that a great change had
taken place in the position of his affairs。 The laced coat； and the
cocked hat； where were they？ He still wore knee…breeches； and
dark cotton stockings on his nether limbs； but they were not the
breeches。 The coat was wide…skirted； and in that respect like the
coat； but； oh； how different！ The mighty cocked hat was replaced
by a modest round one。 Mr。 Bumble was no longer a beadle。
There are some promotions in life； which； independent of the
more substantial rewards they offer； acquire peculiar value and
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dignity from the coats and waistcoats connected with them。 A
field…marshal has his uniform； a bishop his silk apron； a counsellor
his silk gown； a beadle his cocked hat。 Strip the bishop of his
apron； or the beadle of his hat and lace； what are they？ Men。 Mere
men。 Dignity； and even holiness too； sometimes； are more
questions of coat and waistcoat than some people imagine。
Mr。 Bumble had married Mrs。 Corney； and was master of the
workhouse。 Another beadle had come into power。 On him the
cocked hat； gold…laced coat； and staff； had all three descended。
“And tomorrow two months it was done！” said Mr。 Bumble；
with a sigh。 “It seems a age。”
Mr。 Bumble might have meant that he had concentrated a
whole existence of happiness into the short space of eight weeks；
but the sigh—there was a vast deal of meaning in the sigh。
“I sold myself；” said Mr。 Bumble； pursuing the same train of
reflection； “for six tea…spoons； a pair of sugar…tongs； and； a milk…
pot； with a small quantity of second…hand furniture and twenty
pound in money。 I went very reasonable。 Cheap； dirt cheap！”
“Cheap！” cried a shrill voice in Mr。 Bumble’s ear； “you would
have been dear at any price； and dear enough I paid for you； Lord
above knows that！”
Mr。 Bumble turned； and encountered the face of his interesting
consort； who； imperfectly comprehending the few words she had
overheard of his complaint； had hazarded the foregoing remark at
a venture。
“Mrs。 Bumble； ma’am！” said Mr。 Bumble； with sentimental
sternness。
“Well？” cried the lady。
“Have the goodness to look at me；” said Mr。 Bumble； fixing his
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eyes upon her。 （“If she stands such a eye as that；” said Mr。 Bumble
to himself； “she can stand anything。 It is a eye I never knew to fail
with paupers。 If it fails with her； my power is gone。”） Whether an
exceedingly small expansion of eye be sufficient to quell paupers；
who； being lightly fed； are in no very high condition； or whether
the late Mrs。 Corney was particularly proof against eagle glances；
are matters of opinion。 The matter of fact is； that the matron was
in no way overpowered by Mr。 Bumble’s scowl； but； on the
contrary； treated it with great disdain； and even raised a laugh
thereat； which sounded as though it were genuine。
On hearing this most unexpected sound； Mr。 Bumble looked；
first incredulous； and afterwards amazed。 He then relapsed into
his former state； nor did he rouse himself until his attention was
again awakened by the voice of his partner。
“Are you going to sit snoring there； all day？” inquired Mrs。
Bumble。
“I am going to sit here； as long as I think proper； ma’am；”
rejoined Mr。 Bumble； “and although I was not snoring； I shall
snore； gape； sneeze； laugh； or cry； as the humour strikes me； such
being my prerogative。
“Your prerogative！” sneered Mrs。 Bumble； with ineffable
contempt。
“I said the word； ma’am；” said Mr。 Bumble。 “The prerogative of
a man is to command。”
“And what’s the prerogative of a woman； in the name of
goodness？” cried the relict of Mr。 Corney deceased。
“To obey； ma’am；” thundered Mr。 Bumble。 “Your late
unfortunate husband should have taught it you； and then；
perhaps； he might have been alive now。 I wish he was； poor man！”
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Mrs。 Bumble； seeing at a glance； that the decisive moment had
now arrived； and that a blow struck for the mastership on one side
or other； must necessarily be final and conclusive； no sooner heard
this allusion to the dead and gone； than she dropped into a chair；
and with a loud scream that Mr。 Bumble was a hard…hearted
brute； fell into a paroxysm of tears。
But tears were not the things to find their way to Mr。 Bumble’s
soul； his heart was waterproof。 they were less troublesome than a
manual assault； but she was quite prepared to make trial of the
latter mode of proceeding； as Mr。 Bumble was not long in
discovering。
The first proof he experienced of the fact； was conveyed in a
hollow sound； immediately succeeded by the sudden flying off of
his hat to the opposite end of the room。 This preliminary
proceeding lay bare his head； the expert lady； clasping him tightly
round the throat with one hand； inflicted a shower of blows （dealt
with singular vigour and dexterity） upon it with the other。 This
done； she created a little variety by scratching his face； and tearing
his hair； and； having by this time inflicted as much punishment as
she deemed necessary for the offence； she pushed him over a
chair； which was luckily well situated for the purpose； and defied
him to talk about his prerogative again； if he dared。
“Get up！” said Mrs。 Bumble； in a voice of command。 “And take
yourself away from here； unless you want me to do something
desperate。”
Mr。 Bumble rose with a very rueful countenance—wondering
much what something desperate might be。 Picking up his hat； he
looked towards the door。
“Are you going？” demanded Mrs。 Bumble。
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“Certainly； my dear； certainly；” rejoined Mr。 Bumble； making a
quicker motion towards the door。 “I didn’t intend to—I’m going；
my dear！ You are so very violent； that really I—”
At this instant； Mrs。 Bumble stepped hastily forward to replace
the carpet； which had been kicked up in the scuffle。 Mr。 Bumble
immediately darted out of the room； without bestowing another
thought on his unfinished sentence； leaving the late Mrs。 Corney
in full possession of the field。
Mr。 Bumble was fairly taken by surprise； and fairly beaten。 He
had a decided propensity for bullying； derived no inconsiderable
pleasure from the exercise of petty cruelty； and； consequently； was
（it is needless to say） a coward。 This is by no means a
disparagement to his character； for many official personages； who
are held in high respect and admiration； are the victims of similar
infirmities。 The remark is made； indeed； rather in his favour than
otherwise； and with a view of impressing the reader with a just
sense of his qualifications for office。
But the measure of his degradation was not yet full。 After
making a tour of the house； and thinking； for the first time； that
the poor…laws really were too hard on people； and that men who
ran away from their wives； leaving them chargeable to the parish；
ought； in justice； to be visited with no punishment at all； but rather
rewarded as meritorious individuals who had suffered much； Mr。
Bumble came to a room where some of the female paupers were
usually employed in washing the parish linen； whence the sound
of voices in conversation； now proceeded。
“Hem！” said Mr。 Bumble； summoning up all his native dignity。
“These women at least shall continue to respect the prerogative。
Hollo！ hollo； there！ What do you mean by this noise； you hussies？”
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With these words； Mr。 Bumble opened the door； and walked in
with a very fierce and angry manner； which was at once
exchanged for a most humiliated and cowering air； as his eyes
unexpectedly rested on the form of his lady wife。
“My dear；” said Mr。 Bumble； “I didn’t know you were here。”
“Didn’t know I was here！” repeated Mrs。 Bumble。 “What do you
do here？”
“I thought they were talking rather too much to be doing their
work properly； my dear；” replied Mr。 Bumble； glancing
distractedly at a couple of old women at the wash…tub； who were
comparing notes of admiration at the workhouse…master’s
humility。
“You thought they were talking too much？” said Mrs。 Bumble。
“What business is it of yours？”
“Why； my dear—” urged Mr。 Bumble submissively。
“What business is it of yours？” demanded Mrs。 Bumble again。
“It’s very true； you’re matron here； my dear；” submitted Mr。
Bumble； “but I thought you mightn’t be in the way just then。”
“I’ll tell you what； Mr。 Bumble；” returned his lady。 “We don’t
want any of your interference。 You’re a great