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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Оливер Твист
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'
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
might
n't
be
in
the
way
just
then
.
'
'
I
'll
tell
you
what
,
Mr.
Bumble
,
'
returned
his
lady
.
'
We
do
n't
want
any
of
your
interference
.
You
're
a
great
deal
too
fond
of
poking
your
nose
into
things
that
do
n't
concern
you
,
making
everybody
in
the
house
laugh
,
the
moment
your
back
is
turned
,
and
making
yourself
look
like
a
fool
every
hour
in
the
day
.
Be
off
;
come
!
'
Mr.
Bumble
,
seeing
with
excruciating
feelings
,
the
delight
of
the
two
old
paupers
,
who
were
tittering
together
most
rapturously
,
hesitated
for
an
instant
.
Mrs.
Bumble
,
whose
patience
brooked
no
delay
,
caught
up
a
bowl
of
soap-suds
,
and
motioning
him
towards
the
door
,
ordered
him
instantly
to
depart
,
on
pain
of
receiving
the
contents
upon
his
portly
person
.
What
could
Mr.
Bumble
do
?
He
looked
dejectedly
round
,
and
slunk
away
;
and
,
as
he
reached
the
door
,
the
titterings
of
the
paupers
broke
into
a
shrill
chuckle
of
irrepressible
delight
.
It
wanted
but
this
.
He
was
degraded
in
their
eyes
;
he
had
lost
caste
and
station
before
the
very
paupers
;
he
had
fallen
from
all
the
height
and
pomp
of
beadleship
,
to
the
lowest
depth
of
the
most
snubbed
hen-peckery
.
'
All
in
two
months
!
'
said
Mr.
Bumble
,
filled
with
dismal
thoughts
.
'
Two
months
!
No
more
than
two
months
ago
,
I
was
not
only
my
own
master
,
but
everybody
else
's
,
so
far
as
the
porochial
workhouse
was
concerned
,
and
now
!
--
'
It
was
too
much
.
Mr.
Bumble
boxed
the
ears
of
the
boy
who
opened
the
gate
for
him
(
for
he
had
reached
the
portal
in
his
reverie
)
;
and
walked
,
distractedly
,
into
the
street
.
