"I hope," stammered Mr. Limkins, "that the two adults will not assume responsibility for mismanagement on the basis of the unwarranted protest of one child." Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ“

"The magistrate is not in charge of resolving disputes," said the second old gentleman, "and take the child back to the workhouse, and treat him well, for it seems that he needs it." “

That evening, the gentleman in the white vest asserted with great confidence and very unequivocally that Oliver would not only be hanged, but also disemboweled, chopped into several pieces. Mr. Bombur was sullen and shook his head somewhat mysteriously, declaring that he hoped that Oliver would be rewarded in the end. To this Mr. Ghanfil replied that he wished the boy to be his own, and although he generally agreed with the officer's words, the expressed wish seemed to be quite the opposite.

The next morning, the public was again informed that Oliver was to be re-transferred, and that anyone who wished to take him away would receive a gratuity of five pounds.

For example, when a large family encounters a privileged position, such as the possession of property or status, restoration, designated inheritance, or predetermined inheritance, and cannot be shared with a growing and developing child, there is a very common habit of sending him to the sea to earn a living. In accordance with this wise and wise practice, the councillors came together to consider whether Oliver could be handed over to a small merchant ship to be taken to some port which was extremely harmful to health. It seemed to be the best way to deal with him. The captain might have whipped him to death with a whip or knocked his head out with an iron rod at his leisure after dinner one day, both of which had long been well-known and became a favorite amusement among the gentlemen of that class, and it was not at all uncommon. The more the council pondered the matter, the more they felt that the benefits were indescribable, so they concluded that the only effective way to provide Oliver as an adult was to send him out of the sea as soon as possible.

Mr. Bombur took his errand, and went about the city, asking if any captain or anyone else needed a cabin boy without relatives or a cause. On this day, when he returned to the workhouse to report on the progress of the matter, he had just reached the gate and was met by Mr. Sulberley, who was in charge of the funeral affairs of the diocese.

Mr. Sulberley was a tall, lanky man, with unusually large joints, and a black gown that had long been worn out, with long cotton socks of the same color and shoes with patches underneath. His appearance was not meant to have a light-hearted smile, but, on the whole, he had a bit of professional humor. He stepped forward to meet Mr. Bombur, walked very briskly, shook hands with his own eyes, and showed inner joy between his brows.

"Mr. Bombur, I have already measured the two ladies who died last night. The funeral director said.

"You are going to be rich, Mr. Sulberley," said the parish officer, inserting his thumb and forefinger into the snuff box handed to him by the funeral director, a delicate model of a coffin. "I mean, you're going to get rich, Sulberley. The officer tapped the other man affectionately on the shoulder with his cane, and said it again.

"What do you think?" said the funeral director's voice. "The council's price is too small, Mr. Bombur. “

"Isn't it the same with coffins? The officer replied with a smile on his face, a smile he had mastered perfectly, in order not to lose his status as a parish officer.

Sulberley was amused by this sentence, and he naturally didn't have to be too restrained, so he played a long list of haha without stopping. "Yes, yes, Mr. Bombur," he finally laughed enough, "yes, since the implementation of the new supply system, the coffin has become narrower and shallower than before. Anyway, Mr. Bombur, we have to make a little bit of money, and the roaring timber is a very expensive piece of fun, and the iron handles are all brought from Birmingham by canal. “

"All right, all right," said Mr. Bombur, "there are difficulties in every line. Of course, it is permissible to earn fairly. “

"Of course, of course. The funeral director chimed in, "If I don't make any money on this deal, you know, I'll get it back sooner or later—hehehe!"

"Not bad at all. "Mr. Bombur said,

"But I also have to say," continued the funeral director, picking up the subject which had been interrupted by the parish officer, "but I must also say, Mr. Bombur, that the situation which I am now facing is extremely unfavourable, that is, that the fat man dies very quickly, and as soon as he enters the door of the workhouse, the first to fall are those who have a better family, and who pay taxes all year round. I'll tell you, Mr. Bombur, if you're three or four inches bigger than your accounting, you're going to lose a lot, especially when you have to feed your family. “

Mr. Sulberley spoke with indignation, as if he had suffered a great loss. Mr. Bombur realized that it would be detrimental to the dignity of the diocese and that the subject had to be changed. The gentleman immediately remembered Oliver Twist and changed the subject.

"By the way," said Mr. Bombur, "do you know who wants to find a little servant, ah? There is a parish apprentice who looks like a heavy burden under his eyes, and I should say that it is a stone mill hanging from the neck of the parish, right? Bombur raised his cane and pointed to the sign above the door, deliberately striking three times on the words "Five Pounds" printed in a large Roman capital letter.

"Good boy. The funeral director said, grabbing the gold-rimmed lapel of Bombur's uniform, "I was just going to talk to you about this." You know—oh, yo, it's beautiful, Mr. Bombur. I haven't noticed. “

"Yes, I think it's pretty too," said the parish clerk, looking down proudly at the large brass buttons embedded in his coat, "and the pattern is exactly the same as on the parish stamp—a kind Samaritan healing the seriously wounded sick (1). Mr. Surberley, this is a gift from the Council on New Year's Day morning. I remember the first time I put it on was to go to an autopsy, the bankrupt retailer who died in the middle of the night on someone's doorstep. “

"I remember," said the funeral director, "that the jury reported that he had died of a cold and a lack of general necessities, right?"

Bombur nodded.

"They seem to have this as a special case," said the funeral director, "and a few words were added to the end, saying that if the parties involved in the relief had been—"