诺亚以最快速度在大街上狂奔,一口气跑到济贫院门口。他在那儿歇了一两分钟,以便酝酿精彩的抽噎,堆上一脸令人难忘的眼泪与恐惧,然后砰砰砰地冲着小门敲起来。开门的是一个上了年纪的贫民,即便是在他自己的黄金时代里,看到的也只是一张张惆怅哀怨的面孔,可骤然见到这么一副苦脸,也惊得连连后退。“唉,这孩子准出了什么事。”老人说道。“邦布尔先生!邦布尔先生!”诺亚喊了起来, Noah ran as fast as he could in the street and ran to the door of the poor home. He was there for a minute or two in order to brew the wonderful pumpkin, piled up with unforgettable tears and fears, then pounded against the wicket. It was an aged poor man who opened the door. Even in his own golden age, he saw only melancholy grieving faces. Suddenly he saw such a hard-faced face and astonished his repeated retreat. “Oh, what happened to this boy?” Said the old man. “Mr. Bumble! Mr. Bumble! ” Noah shouted,