said Mr. Bumble. ‘Very good. I’ve done it.’

‘The scene, the workhouse.’

‘Good!’

‘And the time, night.’

‘Yes.’

‘And the place, the crazy hole, wherever it was, in which miserable drabs brought forth the life and health so often denied to themselves — gave birth to puling children for the parish to rear; and hid their shame, rot ‘em in the grave!’

‘The lying-in room, I suppose?’ said Mr. Bumble, not quite following the stranger’s excited description.

‘Yes,’ said the stranger. ‘A boy was born there.’