| Though Mrs. Bumble dropped into a chair wailing, tears were not the things to find their way to Mr. Bumble’s soul; his heart was waterproof. Like washable beaver hats that improve with rain, his nerves were rendered stouter and more vigorous, by showers of tears, which, being tokens of weakness, and so far tacit admissions of his own power, pleased and exalted him. He eyed his good lady with looks of great satisfaction, and begged, in an encouraging manner, that she should cry her hardest: the exercise being looked upon, by the faculty, as strongly conducive to health. |
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| Not one to be disrespected, Mrs. Bubmle begins to swing at Mr. Bumble. He hurries out of the house and runs to a pub. There, a man approaches him. |
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 | Say, do you know of old Salley? I am willing to pay for any information. | |
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| Sally? She's dead, but there's anither woman.She spoke toSally on her dearhbed. | |
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