When they were all wearied out, and could tear and beat no longer, they dragged Oliver, struggling and shouting, but nothing daunted, into the dust-cellar, and there locked him up.

This being done, Mrs.Sowerberry sunk into a chair, and burst into tears.
'Bless her, she's going off!' said Charlotte.

'A glass of water, Noah, dear.

Make haste!' 'Oh! Charlotte,' said Mrs.Sowerberry: speaking as well as she could, through a deficiency of breath, and a sufficiency of cold water, which Noah had poured over her head and shoulders.

'Oh! Charlotte, what a mercy we have not all been murdered in our beds!' 'Ah! mercy indeed, ma'am,' was the reply.