Oldal 54 [54]
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both looked scornfully at poor Oliver Twist,
as he sat shivering upon the box in the
coldest corner of the room, and ate the
stale pieces which had been specially re¬
served for him.
Noah was a charity-boy, but not a work¬
house orphan. No chance-child was he,
for he could trace his genealogy back all
the way to his parents, who lived hard by ;
his mother being a washerwoman, and
his father a drunken soldier, discharged
with a wooden leg and a diurnal pension
of twopence-halfpenny and an unstateable
fraction. "The shop-boys in the neigh¬
bourhood had long been in the habit of
branding Noah in the public streets with
the ignominious epithets of " leathers,”
“charity,” and the like; and Noah had
borne them without reply. But now that
fortune had cast in his way a nameless
orphan, at whom even the meanest could
point the finger of scorn, he retorted on
him with interest. This affords charming
food for contemplation. It shows us what
a beautiful thine human nature is, and
how impartially the same amiable qualities
are developed in the finest lord and the
dirtiest charity-boy.
Oliver had been sojourning at the un¬
dertaker’s some three weeks or a month,
and Mr. and Mrs. Sowerberry, the shop
being shut up, were taking their supper
in the little back-parlour, when Mr. Sow¬
erberry, after several deferential glances
at his wife, said,
6 My dear—” He was going to say
more; but, Mrs. Sowerberry looking up
with a peculiarly unpropitious aspect, he
stopped short.
«© Well!’ said Mrs. Sowerberry, sharply.
« Nothing, my dear, nothing,” said Mr.
Sowerberry. —
. 6 Ugh, you brute!” said Mrs. Sower¬
berry.
«Not at all, my dear,” said Mr. Sower¬
berry, humbly. “I thought you didn’t
want to hear, my dear. I was only going
to sa 99
ss Oh, don’t tell me what you were go¬
ing to say,” interposed Mrs. Sowerberry.
“7 am nobody; don’t consult me, pray. I
don’t want to intrude upon your secrets,”
And as Mrs. Sowerberry said this, she
gave an hysterical laugh, which threaten¬
ed violent consequences.
6 But, my dear,” said Sowerberry, “I
want to ask your advice.” .
‘No, no, don’t ask mine,” replied Mrs.
Sowerberry, in an affecting manner ; “ ask
somebody eise’s.”” Here there was an¬
other hysterical laugh, which frightened
Mr Sowerberry very much. This is a |
,
very common and much-approved matri¬
monial course of treatment, which is often
very effective. It at once reduced Mr.
Sowerberry to begging as a special favour
to be allowed to say what Mrs. Sowerberry
was most curious to hear, and, after a short
altercation of less than three quarters of
an hour’s duration, the permission was
most graciously conceded.
“Tt’s only about young Twist, my dear,”
said Mr. Sowerberry. “ A very good-look¬
ing boy that, my dear.”
“He need be, for he eats enough,” ob¬
served the lady.
s There’s an expression of melancholy
in his face, my dear,” resumed Mr. Sow¬
erberry, “which is very interesting. He
would make a delightful mute, my dear.”
Mrs. Sowerberry looked up with an
expression of considerable wonderment.
Mr. Sowerberry remarked it, and, without
allowing time for any observation on the
good lady’s part, proceeded.
s I don’t mean a regular mute to attend
grown-up people, m y dear, but only for
children’s practice. It would be very new
to have a mute in proportion, my dear.
You may depend upon it that it would
have a superb effect.”
Mrs. Sowerberry, who had a good deal
of taste in the undertaking way, was much
struck by the novelty of the idea; but, as
it would have been compromising her dig¬
nity to have said so under existing circum¬
stances, she merely inquired with much
sharpness why such an obvious suggestion
had not presented itself to her husband’s
mind before. Mr. Sowerberry rightly con¬
strued this as an acquiescence in his pro¬
position: it was speedily determined that
Oliver should be at once initiated into the
mysteries of the profession, and, with this
view, that he should accompany his mas¬
ter on the very next occasion of his ser¬
vices being required.
The occasion was not long in coming;
for, half an hour after breakfast next morn¬
ing, Mr. Bumble entered the shop, and
supporting his cane against the counter,
drew forth his large leathern pocket-book,
from which he selected a small scrap of
paper which he handed over to Sower¬
berry.
s Aha!” said the undertaker, glancing
over it with a lively countenance; “an
order for a coffin, eh?"
“For a coffin first, and a porochial fu¬
neral afterwards,” replied Mr. Bumble,
fastening the strap of the leathern pocket¬
book, which, like himself, was very cor¬
pulent.
“ Bayton,” said the undertaker, looking