Stranica 103 [103]
* Oh, my wig, my wig!” cried Master
Charles Bates, from whose lungs the
laughter had proceeded; " here he is!
oh, cry, here he is! Oh, Fagin, look at
him ; Fagin, do look at him! I can’t bear
it; it is such a jo.ty game, I can’t bear it.
Hold me, somebody, while I laugh it out.”
With this irrepressible ebullition of
mirth, Master Bates laid himself flat on
the floor, and kicked convulsively for five
minutes in an ecstacy of facetious joy.
Then jumping to his feet, he snatched the
cleft stick from the r, and, advanc¬
mg to Oliver, viewed him round and
round, while the Jew, taking off his night¬
cap, made a great number of low bows to
the bewildered boy; the Artful mean¬
time, who was of a rather saturnine dis¬
position, and seldom gave way to merri¬
ment when it interfered with business,
rifling his pockets with steady assiduity.
. Look at his togs, Fagin!” said Char¬
ley, putting the light so close to Oliver’s
“ Look at his togs!—superfine cloth, and
the heavy-swell cut! Oh, my eye, what
a game! And his books, too ;—nothing
but a gentleman, Fagin!"
“ Delighted to see you looking so well,
my dear,” said the Jew, bowing with
mock humility. “The Artful shall give
you another suit, my dear, for fear a
should spoil that Sunday one. Why didn’t
you write, my dear, and say you were
coming !—we d have got something warm
for supper.”
At this, Master Bates roared again, so
loud that Fagin himself relaxed, and even
the Dodger smiled; but as the Artful
drew forth the five-pound note at that in¬
stant, it is doubtful whether the sally or
the discovery awakened his merriment.
“ Hallo! what "s that ?” inquired Sikes,
stepping forward as the Jew seized the
note. “ ‘That ’s mine, Fagin.”
“ No, no, my dear,” said the Jew.
ee Bill, mine; you shall have the
“If that ain’t mine!” said Sikes, put¬
ting on his hat with a determined air,—
“mine and Nancy’s, that is,—I’ll take
the boy back again.”
The Jew started, and Oliver started too,
ee gp “er a very svga cause, for he
Oo e dispute might really end in his
at taken back. 8 ;
“Come, hand it over, will you?” said
Sikes.
“This is hardly fair, Bill; hardly fair,
“ Fair, or not fair,” retorted Sikes,
“ hand it over, I tell you! Do you think
Nancy and me has got nothing else to do
with our precious time but to spend it in
scouting arter and kidnapping every young
boy as gets grabbed through you! Give
it here, you avaricious old skeleton; give
it here !”
With this gentle remonstrance, Mr.
Sikes plucked the note from between the
Jew’s finger and thumb; and looking the
old man coolly in the face, folded it up
small, and tied it in his neckerchief.
* That’s for our share of the trouble,"
said Sikes; “and not half enough, nei¬
ther. You may keep the books, if you "re
fond of reading; and if not, you can sell
*am.”’
“'They’re very pretty,” said Charles
Bates, who with certain grimaces had
been affecting to read one of the volumes
in question; “ beautiful writing, isn’t it,
Oliver?” and at sight of the dismayed
look with which Oliver regarded his tor¬
mentors, Master Bates, who was blessed
with a lively sense of the ludicrous, fell
into another ecstacy more boisterous than
the first.
“They belong to the old gentleman,”
said Oliver, wringing his hand: —* to the
good, kind old gentleman who took me
into his house, and had me nursed when I
was near dying of the fever. Oh, pray
send them back; send him back the books
and money! Keep me here all my life
long ; but pray, pray send them back!
He 11 think I stole them ;—the old lady,
all of them that were so kind to me, will
think I stole them. Oh, do have mercy
upon me, and send them back !”
With these words, which were uttered
with all the energy of passionate grief,
Oliver fell upon his knees at the Jew’s
feet, and beat his hands together in per¬
fect desperation.
“The boy’s right,” remarked Fagin,
looking covertly round, and knitting his
shaggy eyebrows into a hard knot. “ You’re
right, Oliver, you’re right;. they will
think you have stolen’em. Ha! ha!”
chuckled the Jew, rubbing his hands ; “ it
couldn’t have happened better if we had
chosen our time !"
6 Of course it couldn’t,” replied Sikes;
“| know’d that, directly I see him coming
through Clerkenwell with the books un¬
der his arm. It’s all right enough.
They "re soft-hearted -singers, or
they wouldn’t have took him in at all, and
they ll ask no questions arter him, fear
they should be obliged to prosecute, and
so get him lagged. He’s safe enough. ’
Oliver had looked from one to the other
while these words were being spoken, as
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