“Gadso!” said the undertaker: taking Mr. Bumble by the gilt-edged lappel of his official coat; “that’s just the very thing I wanted to speak to you about. You know⁠—dear me, what a very elegant button this is, Mr. Bumble! I never noticed it before.”

“Yes, I think it rather pretty,” said the beadle, glancing proudly downwards at the large brass buttons which embellished his coat. “The die is the same as the porochial seal⁠—the Good Samaritan healing the sick and bruised man. The board presented it to me on New Year’s morning, Mr. Sowerberry. I put it on, I remember, for the first time, to attend the inquest on that reduced tradesman, who died in a doorway at midnight.”

“I recollect,” said the undertaker. “The jury brought it in, ‘Died from exposure to the cold, and want of the common necessaries of life,’ didn’t they?”