“Dear me!” exclaimed the matron, “what a very curious question from a single man. What can you want to know for, Mr. Bumble?”

The beadle drank his tea to the last drop; finished a piece of toast; whisked the crumbs off his knees; wiped his lips; and deliberately kissed the matron.

“ Mr. Bumble!” cried that discreet lady in a whisper; for the fright was so great, that she had quite lost her voice, “ Mr. Bumble, I shall scream!” Mr. Bumble made no reply; but in a slow and dignified manner, put his arm round the matron’s waist.