Oldal 46 [46]
OCR
22 OLIVER TWIST. if he wanted to be apprenticed, that he should like it very much indeed; both of which injunctions Oliver promised to obey, the more readily as Mr. Bumble threw in a gentle hint, that if he failed in either particular, there was no telling what would be done to him. When they arlittle room by himself, and admonished by Mr. Bumble to stay there, until he came back to fetch him. There the boy remained with a palpitating heart for half an hour, at the expiration of which time Mr. Bumble thrust in his head, unadorned with the cocked hat, and said aloud, s Now, Oliver, my dear, come to the gentleman.” As Mr. Bumble said this, he put on a grim and threatening look, and added in a low voice, " Mind what I told you, you young rascal.” Oliver stared innocently in Mr. Bumble’s face at this somewhat contradictory style of address; but that gentleman prevented his offering any remark thereupon, by leading him at once into an adjoining room, the door of which was open. It was a large room with a great window ; with powdered heads, one of whom was reading the newspaper, while the other was perusing, with the aid of a pair of tortoise-shell spectacles, a small piece of parchment which lay before him. Mr. Limbkins was standing in front of the desk, on one side; and Mr. Gamfield, with a partially washed face, on the other ; while two or three bluff-looking men in top-boots were lounging about. The old gentleman with the spectacles gradually dozed off, over the little bit of parchment; and there was a short pause after Oliver had been stationed by Mr. Bumble in front of the desk. “This is the boy, your worship,” said Mr. Bumble. The old gentleman who was reading the newspaper raised his head for a moment, and pulled the other old gentleman hy the sleeve, whereupon the last-menuoned old gentleman woke up. ‘Qh, is this the boy?" said the old gentleman. «This is him, sir,” replied Mr. Bumble. “ Bow to the magistrate, my dear.” Oliver roused himself, and made his best obeisance. He had been wondering, with his eyes fixed on the magistrate’s powder, whether all boards were born with that white stuff on their heads, and were beards from thenceforth, on that uccount, “ Well,” said the old gentleman, “TI suppose he’s fond of chimney-sweeping ?” He dotes on it, your worship,” replied Bumble, giving Oliver a sly pinch, to intimate that he had better not say he didn’t. “And he will be a sweep, will he?” inquired the old gentleman. “If we was to bind him to any other on to-morrow, he’d run away simulta neously, your worship,” replied Bumble. *“ And this man that’s to be his master, — you, sir,—you’ll treat him well, and feed him, and do all that sort of thing — will you ?” said the old gentleman. | | When I says I will, I means I will,” replied Mr. Gamfield doggedly. “You ’re a rough speaker, my friend, but you look an honest, open-hearted man,” said the old gentleman, turning his spectacles in the direction of the candidate for Oliver’s premium, whose villanous coun tenance was a regular stamped receipt for cruelty. But the magistrate was half ‘blind, and half childish, so he couldn’t reasonably be expected to discern what | other people did. “T hope I am, sir,” said Mr. Gamfield with an ugly leer. 6] have no doubt you are, my friend,” replied the old gentleman, fixing his spectacles more firmly on his nose, and lookng about him for the inkstand. t was the critical moment of Oliver’s fate. Ifthe inkstand had been where the old gentleman thought it was, he would | have dipped his pen into it and signed the indentures, and Oliver would have been straightway hurried off. But, as it chanced to be immediately under his nose, it followed as a matter of course that he looked all over his desk for it, without finding it ; | and happening in the course of his search | to look straight before him, his gaze encountered the pale and terrified face of Oliver Twist, who, despite of all the ad| monitory looks and pinches of Bumble, was regarding the very repulsive countenance of his future master with a mingled expression of horror and fear, too palpable to be mistaken even by a half-blind magistrate. The old gentleman stopped, laid down his pen, and looked from Oliver to Mr. Limbkins, who attempted to take snuff with a cheerful and unconcerned aspect. “My boy,” said the old gentleman, leaning over the desk. Oliver started at the sound,—he might be excused for doin so, for the words were kindly said, an strange sounds frighten one. He trembled violently, and burst into tears. | My boy,” said the old gentleman,
