Mr.Bumble rushed to the closet; and, snatching a pint green-glass bottle from the shelf thus incoherently indicated, filled a tea-cup with its contents, and held it to the lady's lips.
'I'm better now,' said Mrs.Corney, falling back, after drinking half of it.
Mr.Bumble raised his eyes piously to the ceiling in thankfulness; and, bringing them down again to the brim of the cup, lifted it to his nose.
'Peppermint,' exclaimed Mrs.Corney, in a faint voice, smiling gently on the beadle as she spoke.

'Try it! There's a little--a little something else in it.' Mr.Bumble tasted the medicine with a doubtful look; smacked his lips; took another taste; and put the cup down empty.
'It's very comforting,' said Mrs.Corney.
'Very much so indeed, ma'am,' said the beadle.

As he spoke, he drew a chair beside the matron, and tenderly inquired what had happened to distress her.
'Nothing,' replied Mrs.Corney.

'I am a foolish, excitable, weak creetur.' 'Not weak, ma'am,' retorted Mr.Bumble, drawing his chair a little closer.

'Are you a weak creetur, Mrs.Corney ?' 'We are all weak creeturs,' said Mrs.Corney, laying down a general principle.
'So we are,' said the beadle.
Nothing was said on either side, for a minute or two afterwards.