“Have the goodness to look at me,” said Mr. Bumble, fixing his 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!”