Oliver Twist
OLIVER BECOMES BETTER ACQUAINTED WITH THE CHARACTERS OF HIS NEW ASSOCIATES; AND PURCHASES EXPERIENCE AT A HIGH PRICE. BEING A SHORT, BUT VERY IMPORTANT CHAPTER, IN THIS HISTORY
For many days, Oliver in the Jew’s room, the marks out of the pocket-handkerchief, (of which a great number were home,) and sometimes taking part in the game already described: which the two boys and the Jew played, regularly, every morning. At length, he to for fresh air, and took many occasions of the old to allow him to go out to work with his two companions.
Oliver was the more to be employed, by what he had of the of the old gentleman’s character. Whenever the Dodger or Charley Bates came home at night, empty-handed, he would with great on the of and lazy habits; and would upon them the of an active life, by sending them to bed. On one occasion, indeed, he so as to them a of stairs; but this was out his to an extent.
At length, one morning, Oliver the permission he had so sought. There had been no to work upon, for two or three days, and the dinners had been meagre. Perhaps these were for the old gentleman’s his assent; but, they were or no, he told Oliver he might go, and him under the joint of Charley Bates, and his friend the Dodger.
The three boys out; the Dodger with his coat-sleeves up, and his cocked, as usual; Master Bates along with his hands in his pockets; and Oliver them, where they were going, and what branch of he would be in, first.
The at which they went, was such a very lazy, ill-looking saunter, that Oliver soon to think his were going to the old gentleman, by not going to work at all. The Dodger had a propensity, too, of the from the of small boys and them areas; while Charley Bates some very the of property, by and from the at the sides, and them into pockets which were so capacious, that they to his whole of in every direction. These looked so bad, that Oliver was on the point of his of his way back, in the best way he could; when his were into another channel, by a very of on the part of the Dodger.
They were just from a narrow not from the open square in Clerkenwell, which is yet called, by some of terms, “The Green”: when the Dodger a stop; and, his on his lip, his again, with the and circumspection.
“What’s the matter?” Oliver.
“Hush!” the Dodger. “Do you see that old at the book-stall?”
“The old over the way?” said Oliver. “Yes, I see him.”
“He’ll do,” said the Dodger.
“A plant,” Master Charley Bates.
Oliver looked from one to the other, with the surprise; but he was not permitted to make any inquiries; for the two boys walked across the road, and close the old his attention had been directed. Oliver walked a after them; and, not to or retire, looking on in amazement.
The old was a very respectable-looking personage, with a and gold spectacles. He was in a bottle-green with a black collar; white trousers; and a under his arm. He had taken up a book from the stall, and there he stood, reading away, as hard as if he were in his elbow-chair, in his own study. It is very possible that he himself there, indeed; for it was plain, from his abstraction, that he saw not the book-stall, the street, the boys, nor, in short, anything but the book itself: which he was reading through: over the when he got to the of a page, at the top line of the next one, and going on, with the and eagerness.
What was Oliver’s and as he a off, looking on with his as wide open as they would possibly go, to see the Dodger his hand into the old gentleman’s pocket, and from a handkerchief! To see him hand the same to Charley Bates; and to them, away the at full speed!
In an the whole of the hankerchiefs, and the watches, and the jewels, and the Jew, upon the boy’s mind.
He stood, for a moment, with the blood so through all his from terror, that he as if he were in a fire; then, and frightened, he took to his heels; and, not what he did, off as fast as he his to the ground.
This was all done in a minute’s space. In the very when Oliver to run, the old gentleman, his hand to his pocket, and missing his handkerchief, round. Seeing the boy away at such a pace, he very naturally him to be the depredator; and “Stop thief!” with all his might, off after him, book in hand.
But the old was not the only person who the hue-and-cry. The Dodger and Master Bates, to public attention by the open street, had retired into the very the corner. They no sooner the cry, and saw Oliver running, than, how the stood, they with great promptitude; and, “Stop thief!” too, joined in the like good citizens.
Although Oliver had been up by philosophers, he was not with the that self-preservation is the law of nature. If he had been, he would have been prepared for this. Not being prepared, however, it him the more; so away he like the wind, with the old and the two boys and him.
“Stop thief! Stop thief!” There is a magic in the sound. The his counter, and the car-man his waggon; the his tray; the his basket; the his pail; the errand-boy his parcels; the school-boy his marbles; the his pickaxe; the child his battledore. Away they run, pell-mell, helter-skelter, slap-dash: tearing, yelling, screaming, the as they turn the corners, up the dogs, and the fowls: and streets, squares, and courts, re-echo with the sound.
“Stop thief! Stop thief!” The is taken up by a hundred voices, and the at every turning. Away they fly, through the mud, and along the pavements: up go the windows, out the people, the mob, a whole audience Punch in the very of the plot, and, joining the throng, the shout, and fresh to the cry, “Stop thief! Stop thief!”
“Stop thief! Stop thief!” There is a FOR something in the breast. One child, with exhaustion; terror in his looks; in his eyes; large of his face; every nerve to make upon his pursuers; and as they on his track, and upon him every instant, they his with joy. “Stop thief!” Ay, stop him for God’s sake, were it only in mercy!
Stopped at last! A blow. He is upon the pavement; and the him: each new comer, and with the others to catch a glimpse. “Stand aside!” “Give him a little air!” “Nonsense! he don’t it.” “Where’s the gentleman?” “Here his is, the street.” “Make room there for the gentleman!” “Is this the boy, sir!” “Yes.”
Oliver lay, with and dust, and from the mouth, looking upon the of that him, when the old was and pushed into the circle by the of the pursuers.
“Yes,” said the gentleman, “I am it is the boy.”
“Afraid!” the crowd. “That’s a good ’un!”
“Poor fellow!” said the gentleman, “he has himself.”
“I did that, sir,” said a great fellow, forward; “and I cut my agin’ his mouth. I stopped him, sir.”
The touched his with a grin, something for his pains; but, the old gentleman, him with an of dislike, look round, as if he away himself: which it is very possible he might have to do, and thus have another chase, had not a police officer (who is the last person to arrive in such cases) at that moment his way through the crowd, and Oliver by the collar.
“Come, up,” said the man, roughly.
“It wasn’t me indeed, sir. Indeed, indeed, it was two other boys,” said Oliver, his hands passionately, and looking round. “They are here somewhere.”
“Oh no, they ain’t,” said the officer. He meant this to be ironical, but it was true besides; for the Dodger and Charley Bates had off the they came to.
“Come, up!”
“Don’t him,” said the old gentleman, compassionately.
“Oh no, I won’t him,” the officer, his jacket off his back, in proof thereof. “Come, I know you; it won’t do. Will you upon your legs, you devil?”
Oliver, who stand, a shift to himself on his feet, and was at once along the by the jacket-collar, at a pace. The walked on with them by the officer’s side; and as many of the as the feat, got a little ahead, and at Oliver from time to time. The boys in triumph; and on they went.
