placently at the cocked hat, and smiled. Yes, he smiled: beadles are but men, and Mr. Bumble smiled.
"Now don't you be offended at what I'm a-going to say," observed Mrs. Mann, with captivating sweetness. "You've had a long walk, you know, or I wouldn't mention it. Now will you take a little drop of something, Mr. Bumble?"
"Not a drop—not a drop," said Mr. Bumble, waving his right hand in a dignified, but still placid manner.
"I think you will," said Mrs. Mann, who had noticed the tone of the refusal, and the gesture that had accompanied it. "Just a leetle drop, with a little cold water, and a lump of sugar."
Mr. Bumble coughed.
"Now, just a little drop," said Mrs. Mann persuasively.
"What is it?" inquired the beadle.
"Why, it's what I'm obliged to keep a little of in the house, to put in the blessed infants' Daffy when they ain't well, Mr. Bumble,"
