Stranica 105 [105]
69
ing her head from side to side, with a poor
‘assumption of indifference.
. 66 Well, then, a
Sikes with a growl like that he was ac¬
customed to use when addressing his dog,
s or I’ll quiet you for a good long time to
come."
The girl laughed again, even less com¬
ovina than before, and, darting a hasty
ook at Sikes, turned her face aside, and
bit her lip till the blood came.
* You re a nice one,” added Sikes, as
he surveyed her with a contemptuous air,
“to take up the humane and genteel side!
A pretty subject for the child, as you call
him, to make a friend of !”
ss God Almighty help me, Iam!” cried
the girl passionately ; “and I wish I had
been struck dead in the street, or changed
places with them we passed so near to¬
night, before Í had lent a hand in bring¬
ng him here. He’s a thief, a liar, a de¬
vil, all that’s bad, from this night forth;
isn’t that enough for the old wretch with¬
out blows?”
“Come, come, Sikes,” said the Jew,
appealing to him in a remonstratory tone,
and motioning towards the boys, who were
eagerly attentive to all that passed; “we
must have civil words,—civil words, Bill!"
“Civil words!” cried the girl, whose
passion was frightful to see. “Civil
words, you villain! Yes; you deserve ’em
from me. I thieved for you when I was
a child not half as old as this (pointing to
Oliver). I have been in the same trade,
and the same service, for twelve years
since; don’t you know it? Speak out!
don’t you know it ?”
“ Well, well!” replied*the Jew, with
an attempt at pacification; “and if you
have, it’s your living!"
“Ah, it is!” returned the girl, not
speaking, but pouring out the words in
one continuous and vehement scream.
“ It is my living, and the cold, wet, dirty
streets are my home; and you're the
wretch that drove me to them long ago,
and that ’ll keep me there day and night,
day and night, till I die !”
“1 shall do you a mischief !” interposed
the Jew, goaded by these reproaches; “a
mischief worse than that, if you say much
more !"
. The girl said nothing more; but tear¬
ing her hair and dress in a transport of
phrensy, made such a rush at the Jew as
would probably have left signal marks of
her revenge upon him, had not her wrists
been seized by Sikes at the right moment;
upon which she made a few ineffectual
struggles, and fainted.
“She’s all right now,” said Sikes, lay¬
“She’s un¬
up in this way.”
The Jew wiped his forehead, and smiled,
as if it were a relief to have the disturb
ance over; but neither he, nor Sikes, nor
the dog, nor the boys, seemed to consider
it in any other light than a common occur¬
rence incidental to business.
“Tt’s the worst of having to do with
women,” said the Jew, replacing the club;
“ but they ’re clever, and we can’t get on
in our line without ’em.—Charley, show
Oliver to bed.”
“I suppose he’d better not wear his
best clothes to-morrow, Fagin, had he?”
inquired Charley Bates.
“ Certainly not,” replied the Jew, recip¬
rocating the grin with which Charley put
the question.
Master Bates, apparently much delight¬
ed with his commission, took the cleft
stick, and led Oliver into an adjacent
kitchen, where there were two or three
of the beds on which he had slept before ;
and here, with many uncontrollable bursts
of laughter, he produced the identical old
suit of clothes which Oliver had so much
congratulated himself upon leaving off at
Mr. Brownlow’s, and the accidental dis¬
play of which to Fagin by the Jew who
purchased them, had been the very first
clue received of his whereabout.
‘“ Pull off the smart ones,” said Charley,
sand I’ll give Jem to Fagin to take care
of. What fun it is!”
Poor Oliver unwillingly complied ; and
Master Bates, rolling up the new clothes
under his arm, departed from the room,
leaving Oliver in the dark, and locking
the door behind him.
The noise of Charley’s laughter, and
the voice of Miss Betsy, who opportunely
arrived to throw water over her friend,
and perform other feminine offices for the
promotion of her recovery, might have
kept many people awake under more hap¬
py circumstances than those in which
Oliver was placed; but he was sick and
weary, and soon fell sound asleep.
CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH.
Oliver’s destiny continuing unpropitious, brings a
great man to London to injure his reputation.
Ir is the custom on the stage in all
good, murderous melo-dramas, to present
the tragic and the comic scenes in as
regular alternation as the layers of red