Miss Sarah Rumble was a good deal dismayed by the jubilant severity of Mr. Dingwell's morals. She would have been glad had he been of a less sharp and cruel turn of pleasantry. Her heart was heavy, and she wished herself a happy deliverance, and had a vague alarm about the poor little children's falling under suspicion, and of all that might follow. But what could she do? Poverty is so powerless, and has so little time to weigh matters maturely, or to prepare for any change; its hands are always so full, and its stomach so empty, and its spirits so dull.
"I wish those d----d curtains were off the bed," and again they underwent the same disgusting process; "and the bed-clothes, egad! They purify nothing here. You know _nothing_ about _them_ either, of course? No--but they would not like to kill me. _No_;--that would not do. Knock their little game on the head, eh? I suppose it _is_ all right. What's prevalent here now? What sort of--I mean what sort of _death_--fever, small-pox, or scarlatina--eh? Much sickness going?"
"Nothink a'most, sir; a little measles among the children."
"No objection to that; it heads them down a bit, and does not trouble us. But what among the _grown_ people?"
"Nothink to signify in the court here, for three months a'most."
"And _then_, ma'am, what _was_ it, pray? Give those to your boy" (they were his boots); "let him rub 'em up, ma'am, he's not a bit too young to begin; and, egad! he had better do 'em _well_, too;" and thrusting his feet into a great pair of slippers, he reverted to his question--"What sickness was _then_, ma'am, three months ago, here in this pleasant little prison-yard of a place--hey?"
"Fever, please, sir, at No. 4. Three took it, please: two of 'em went to hospital."
"Don't know, indeed, sir--and one died, please, sir, in the court here, and he left three little children."
"Well, that's a release. Rest his soul, he's dead! as our immortal bard, that says everything so much better than anyone else, says; and rest our souls, _they're_ gone with their vile noise. So your bill of mortality is not much to signify; and make that coffee--d'ye see?--this moment, and let me have it as hot as--as the final abode of Dissenters and Catholics--I see you believe in the Church Catechism--immediately, if you please, to the next room."