Oldal 54 [54]
OCR
28 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 reserved for him. Noah was a charity-boy, but not a workhouse 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 neighbourhood 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 undertaker’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. Sowerberry, 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. Sowerberry. «Not at all, my dear,” said Mr. Sowerberry, 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 going 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 threatened 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 another hysterical laugh, which frightened Mr Sowerberry very much. This is a | , very common and much-approved matrimonial 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-looking boy that, my dear.” “He need be, for he eats enough,” observed the lady. s There’s an expression of melancholy in his face, my dear,” resumed Mr. Sowerberry, “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 dignity to have said so under existing circumstances, she merely inquired with much sharpness why such an obvious suggestion had not presented itself to her husband’s mind before. Mr. Sowerberry rightly construed this as an acquiescence in his proposition: 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 master on the very next occasion of his services being required. The occasion was not long in coming; for, half an hour after breakfast next morning, 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 Sowerberry. 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 funeral afterwards,” replied Mr. Bumble, fastening the strap of the leathern pocketbook, which, like himself, was very corpulent. “ Bayton,” said the undertaker, looking
