The discreet functionary looked cautiously round the apartment, and then winking the eye that was nearest to Mrs. Sandboys, as much as to remind the gentleman that ladies were present, began fiddling with the gold lace round his cocked hat, and replied that he had been sent on to him by the Board. “T’ Board!—what Board?” shouted Christopher. “The Board of Guardians,” was the reply. And then the beadle proceeded to ask the gentleman whether his name was not Christopher Sandboys; and receiving an answer in the affirmative, he begged further to be informed whether the gentleman did not reside in Buttermere, in the county of Cumberland. Mr. Sandboys having assented, the functionary then inquired whether he had not been married at Lanthwaite Green Church: and on learning that such was the case, he told the horror-stricken Cursty that he regretted to say he must go with him on to Marrowbone workhouse, where the Board was a-sitting. “But what for?” shrieked Cursty, as he stamped rapidly up and down the room, in positive bewilderment at the extraordinary character of the occurrence. There could be no mistake this time as to his being the person who was wanted, for the man had got his name and place of residence, and evidently knew all about him. The only reply the parish officer made to the inquiry was to wink his eye a second time in a more marked manner than before, and to jerk his elbow two or three times in the direction of Mrs. Sandboys. “Don’t stand there, man!” shouted the infuriated mountaineer, “winking your d——d eye at me! But tell me what you want here!” The parish functionary, who was anxious for the sake of the prospective perquisite, to break the matter as mildly as possible to the gentleman, replied that he had a hunpleasant hoffice to preform, and that he was hanxious to preform it in as delikit a manner as he could—and hoping no offence, if the gen’elman would step into the passage with him, he’d give him all the particlers: but it wasn’t hexactly a case to speak on afore ladies. And here the official winked his eye again, and nudged his elbow in the direction of Mrs. Sandboys. “Ladies!” echoed the almost maddened Christopher—“that lady is my wife, and I’ve no secrets from her, man;” and so saying, he drew forth his handkerchief, and wiped away the perspiration that now stood upon his brow like the moisture on the inside of the windows of a hackney-coach on a frosty day. “In coorse she is!” responded the beadle, with a knowing air; “every party I wisits says the very hidentical same thing; but it ain’t no business of mine, and I’m not the kerackter to take a pleasure in ruining the peace of families; so, if you’ll just step outside here for a minute, I’ll tell you about it, and I’ve no doubt but what the whole sore can be heasily ’ealed with a little palm-oil, you know.” And here the functionary described a small circle inside his hand, and winked once more at the wonder-stricken Mr. Sandboys.