He was still placidly engaged in this latter survey, when Mrs. Corney, hurrying into the room, threw herself, in a breathless state, on a chair by the fireside, and covering her eyes with one hand, placed the other over her heart, and gasped for breath.

“ Mrs. Corney,” said Mr. Bumble, stooping over the matron, “what is this, ma’am? Has anything happened, ma’am? Pray answer me: I’m on⁠—on⁠—” Mr. Bumble, in his alarm, could not immediately think of the word “tenterhooks,” so he said “broken bottles.”

“Oh, Mr. Bumble!” cried the lady, “I have been so dreadfully put out!”