Oliver Twist
HOW OLIVER PASSED HIS TIME IN THE IMPROVING SOCIETY OF HIS REPUTABLE FRIENDS
About next day, when the Dodger and Master Bates had gone out to their avocations, Mr. Fagin took the opportunity of reading Oliver a long lecture on the of ingratitude; of which he he had been guilty, to no ordinary extent, in himself from the of his friends; and, still more, in to from them after so much trouble and had been in his recovery. Mr. Fagin great on the of his having taken Oliver in, and him, when, without his timely aid, he might have with hunger; and he related the and history of a whom, in his philanthropy, he had under circumstances, but who, of his and a to with the police, had come to be at the Old Bailey one morning. Mr. Fagin did not to his in the catastrophe, but with in his that the wrong-headed and of the person in question, had it necessary that he should the of for the crown: which, if it were not true, was necessary for the safety of him (Mr. Fagin) and a select friends. Mr. Fagin by a picture of the of hanging; and, with great and of manner, his that he might be to submit Oliver Twist to that operation.
Little Oliver’s blood ran cold, as he to the Jew’s words, and the dark in them. That it was possible for itself to the with the when they were in companionship, he already; and that deeply-laid plans for the of or over-communicative persons, had been and out by the Jew on more occasions than one, he by no means unlikely, when he the nature of the that and Mr. Sikes: which to to some of the kind. As he up, and met the Jew’s look, he that his and were neither by that old gentleman.
The Jew, hideously, Oliver on the head, and said, that if he himself quiet, and himself to business, he saw they would be very good friends yet. Then, taking his hat, and himself with an old great-coat, he out, and locked the room-door him.
And so Oliver all that day, and for the part of many days, nobody, early and midnight, and left the long hours to with his own thoughts. Which, to to his friends, and the opinion they must long ago have of him, were sad indeed.
After the of a week or so, the Jew left the room-door unlocked; and he was at to about the house.
It was a very dirty place. The rooms had great high chimney-pieces and large doors, with and to the ceiling; which, although they were black with neglect and dust, were in ways. From all of these Oliver that a long time ago, the old Jew was born, it had to people, and had been and handsome: and as it looked now.
Spiders had their in the of the and ceilings; and sometimes, when Oliver walked into a room, the would across the floor, and to their holes. With these exceptions, there was neither of any thing; and often, when it dark, and he was of from room to room, he would in the of the passage by the street-door, to be as near people as he could; and would there, and the hours, until the Jew or the boys returned.
In all the rooms, the were fast closed: the which them were tight into the wood; the only light which was admitted, its way through at the top: which the rooms more gloomy, and them with shadows. There was a back-garret window with outside, which had no shutter; and out of this, Oliver often with a for hours together; but nothing was to be from it but a and of housetops, chimneys, and gable-ends. Sometimes, indeed, a might be seen, over the parapet-wall of a house; but it was again; and as the window of Oliver’s was down, and with the rain and of years, it was as much as he do to make out the of the different objects beyond, without making any attempt to be or heard,—which he had as much of being, as if he had the of St. Paul’s Cathedral.
One afternoon, the Dodger and Master Bates being out that evening, the first-named took it into his to some the of his person (to do him justice, this was by no means an with him); and, with this end and aim, he Oliver to him in his toilet, straightway.
Oliver was but too to make himself useful; too happy to have some faces, bad, to look upon; too to those about him when he do so; to any in the way of this proposal. So he at once his readiness; and, on the floor, while the Dodger sat upon the table so that he take his in his laps, he himself to a which Mr. Dawkins as “japanning his trotter-cases.” The phrase, into plain English, signifieth, his boots.
Whether it was the of and which a animal may be to when he on a table in an easy a pipe, one leg to and fro, and having his all the time, without the past trouble of having taken them off, or the of them on, to his reflections; or it was the of the tobacco that the of the Dodger, or the of the that his thoughts; he was tinctured, for the nonce, with a of and enthusiasm, to his nature. He looked on Oliver, with a countenance, for a space; and then, his head, and a sign, said, in abstraction, and to Master Bates:
“What a it is he isn’t a prig!”
“Ah!” said Master Charles Bates; “he don’t know what’s good for him.”
The Dodger again, and his pipe: as did Charley Bates. They smoked, for some seconds, in silence.
“I you don’t know what a is?” said the Dodger mournfully.
“I think I know that,” Oliver, looking up. “It’s a the—; you’re one, are you not?” Oliver, himself.
“I am,” the Dodger. “I’d to be anything else.” Mr. Dawkins gave his a cock, after this sentiment, and looked at Master Bates, as if to that he would by his saying anything to the contrary.
“I am,” the Dodger. “So’s Charley. So’s Fagin. So’s Sikes. So’s Nancy. So’s Bet. So we all are, to the dog. And he’s the one of the lot!”
“And the least to peaching,” added Charley Bates.
“He wouldn’t so much as in a witness-box, for of himself; no, not if you him up in one, and left him there without for a fortnight,” said the Dodger.
“Not a of it,” Charley.
“He’s a dog. Don’t he look at any that laughs or when he’s in company!” the Dodger. “Won’t he at all, when he a playing! And don’t he other dogs as ain’t of his breed! Oh, no!”
“He’s an out-and-out Christian,” said Charley.
This was as a to the animal’s abilities, but it was an in another sense, if Master Bates had only it; for there are a good many ladies and gentlemen, to be out-and-out Christians, whom, and Mr. Sikes’ dog, there and points of resemblance.
“Well, well,” said the Dodger, to the point from which they had strayed: with that of his which all his proceedings. “This hasn’t go anything to do with Green here.”
“No more it has,” said Charley. “Why don’t you put under Fagin, Oliver?”
“And make your fortun’ out of hand?” added the Dodger, with a grin.
“And so be able to retire on your property, and do the gen-teel: as I to, in the very next leap-year but four that comes, and the forty-second Tuesday in Trinity-week,” said Charley Bates.
“I don’t like it,” Oliver, timidly; “I wish they would let me go. I—I—would go.”
“And Fagin would not!” Charley.
Oliver this too well; but it might be to his more openly, he only sighed, and on with his boot-cleaning.
“Go!” the Dodger. “Why, where’s your spirit?” Don’t you take any out of yourself? Would you go and be on your friends?”
“Oh, that!” said Master Bates: two or three from his pocket, and them into a cupboard, “that’s too mean; that is.”
“I couldn’t do it,” said the Dodger, with an air of disgust.
“You can your friends, though,” said Oliver with a smile; “and let them be for what you did.”
“That,” the Dodger, with a of his pipe, “That was all out of for Fagin, ’cause the know that we work together, and he might have got into trouble if we hadn’t our lucky; that was the move, wasn’t it, Charley?”
Master Bates assent, and would have spoken, but the of Oliver’s came so upon him, that the he was got with a laugh, and up into his head, and into his throat: and on a fit of and stamping, about five minutes long.
“Look here!” said the Dodger, a of and halfpence. “Here’s a life! What’s the where it comes from? Here, catch hold; there’s more where they were took from. You won’t, won’t you? Oh, you flat!”
“It’s naughty, ain’t it, Oliver?” Charley Bates. “He’ll come to be scragged, won’t he?”
“I don’t know what that means,” Oliver.
“Something in this way, old feller,” said Charly. As he said it, Master Bates up an end of his neckerchief; and, it in the air, his on his shoulder, and a through his teeth; indicating, by a representation, that and were one and the same thing.
“That’s what it means,” said Charley. “Look how he stares, Jack!
I did see such company as that ’ere boy; he’ll be the death of me, I know he will.” Master Charley Bates, having laughed again, his pipe with in his eyes.
“You’ve been up bad,” said the Dodger, his with much when Oliver had them. “Fagin will make something of you, though, or you’ll be the he had that out unprofitable. You’d at once; for you’ll come to the long you think of it; and you’re only time, Oliver.”
Master Bates this with of his own: which, being exhausted, he and his friend Mr. Dawkins into a of the to the life they led, with a of to Oliver that the best thing he do, would be to secure Fagin’s without more delay, by the means which they themselves had to it.
“And always put this in your pipe, Nolly,” said the Dodger, as the Jew was the door above, “if you don’t take and tickers—”
“What’s the good of talking in that way?” Master Bates; “he don’t know what you mean.”
“If you don’t take pocket-handkechers and watches,” said the Dodger, his to the level of Oliver’s capacity, “some other will; so that the that ’em will be all the worse, and you’ll be all the worse, too, and nobody a ha’p’orth the better, the them—and you’ve just as good a right to them as they have.”
“To be sure, to be sure!” said the Jew, who had entered by Oliver. “It all in a my dear; in a nutshell, take the Dodger’s word for it. Ha! ha! ha! He the of his trade.”
The old man his hands together, as he the Dodger’s in these terms; and with at his pupil’s proficiency.
The no at this time, for the Jew had returned home by Miss Betsy, and a Oliver had before, but who was by the Dodger as Tom Chitling; and who, having on the stairs to a with the lady, now his appearance.
Mr. Chitling was older in years than the Dodger: having numbered eighteen winters; but there was a of in his that which to that he himself of a in point of and professional aquirements. He had small eyes, and a pock-marked face; a cap, a dark jacket, trousers, and an apron. His was, in truth, out of repair; but he himself to the company by that his “time” was only out an hour before; and that, in of having the for six past, he had not been able to any attention on his private clothes. Mr. Chitling added, with marks of irritation, that the new way of up was unconstitutional, for it in them, and there was no against the County. The same he to apply to the mode of the hair: which he to be unlawful. Mr. Chitling up his by that he had not touched a of anything for forty-two long hard-working days; and that he “wished he might be if he warn’t as as a lime-basket.”
“Where do you think the has come from, Oliver?” the Jew, with a grin, as the other boys put a bottle of on the table.
“I—I—don’t know, sir,” Oliver.
“Who’s that?” Tom Chitling, a look at Oliver.
“A friend of mine, my dear,” the Jew.
“He’s in luck, then,” said the man, with a meaning look at Fagin. “Never mind where I came from, ’un; you’ll your way there, soon enough, I’ll a crown!”
At this sally, the boys laughed. After some more on the same subject, they a with Fagin; and withdrew.
After some the last and Fagin, they their chairs the fire; and the Jew, telling Oliver to come and by him, the to the most calculated to his hearers. These were, the great of the trade, the of the Dodger, the of Charley Bates, and the of the Jew himself. At length these of being exhausted; and Mr. Chitling did the same: for the house of after a week or two. Miss Betsy withdrew; and left the party to their repose.
From this day, Oliver was left alone; but was in almost with the two boys, who played the old game with the Jew every day: for their own or Oliver’s, Mr. Fagin best knew. At other times the old man would tell them of he had in his days: mixed up with so much that was and curious, that Oliver not help laughing heartily, and that he was in of all his feelings.
In short, the old Jew had the boy in his toils. Having prepared his mind, by and gloom, to any to the of his own sad in such a place, he was now slowly into his the which he would it, and its for ever.
