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Oliver Twist
Oliver mildly replied； that he had always heard a bird’s mouth
described by the term in question。
“My eyes； how green！” exclaimed the young gentleman。 “Why；
a beak’s a madgst’rate； and when you walk by beak’s order； it’s not
straight forerd； but always a…going up； and nivir a…coming down
agin。 Was you never on the mill？”
“What mill？” inquired Oliver。
“What mill！ Why； the mill—the mill as takes up so little room
that it’ll work inside a stone jug； and always goes better when the
wind’s low with people； than when it’s high； a…cos then they can’t
get workmen。 But come；” said the young gentleman； “you want
grub； and you shall have it。 I’m at low…water mark myself—only
one bob and a magpie； but； as far as it goes； I’ll fork out and
stump。 Up with you on your pins。 There！ Now then！ Morrice！”
Assisting Oliver to rise； the young gentleman took him to an
adjacent chandler’s shop； where he purchased a sufficiency of
ready…dressed ham and a half…quartern loaf； or； as he himself
expressed it； “a fourpenny bran；” the ham being kept clean and
preserved from dust； by the ingenious expedience of making a
hole in the loaf by pulling out a portion of the crumb； and stuffing
it therein。 Taking the bread under his arm； the young gentleman
turned into a small public…house； and led the way to a tap…room in
the rear of the premises。 Here； a pot of beer was brought in； by
direction of the mysterious youth； and Oliver； falling to； at his new
friend’s bidding； made a long and hearty meal； during the progress
of which； the strange boy eyed him from time to time with great
attention。
“Going to London？” said the strange boy； when Oliver had at
length concluded。
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Oliver Twist
“Yes。”
“Got any lodgings？”
“No。”
“Money？”
“No。”
The strange boy whistled； and put his arms into his pockets； as
far as the big coat sleeves would let them go。
“Do you live in London？” inquired Oliver。
“Yes。 I do； when I’m at home；” replied the boy。 “I suppose you
want some place to sleep in tonight； don’t you？”
“I do； indeed；” answered Oliver。 “I have not slept under a roof
since I left the country。”
“Don’t fret your eyelids on that score；” said the young
gentleman。 “I’ve got to be in London tonight； and I know a
’spectable old gentleman as lives there； wot’ll give you lodgings for
nothink； and never ask for the change—that is； if any gentleman
he knows interduces you。 And don’t he know me？ Oh； no！ Not in
the least！ By no means。 Certainly not！” The young gentleman
smiled； as if to intimate that the latter fragments of discourse were
playfully ironical； and finished the beer as he did so。
This unexpected offer of shelter was too tempting to be
resisted； especially as it was immediately followed up； by the
assurance that the old gentleman referred to； would doubtless
provide Oliver with a comfortable place； without loss of time This
led to a more friendly and confidential dialogue； from which Oliver
discovered that his friend’s name was Jack Dawkins； and that he
was a peculiar pet and protégé of the elderly gentleman before
mentioned。
Mr。 Dawkins’ appearance did not say a vast deal in favour of the
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
Oliver Twist
comforts which his patron’s interest obtained for those whom he
took under his protection； but； as he had a rather flighty and
dissolute mode of conversing； and furthermore avowed that
among his intimate friends he was better known by the sobriquet
of “The Artful Dodger；” Oliver concluded that； being of a
dissipated and careless turn； the moral precept of his benefactor
had hitherto been thrown away upon him。 Under this impression；
he secretly resolved to cultivate the good opinion of the old
gentleman as quickly as possible； and； if he found the Dodger
incorrigible； as he more than half…suspected he should； to decline
the honour of his further acquaintance。
As John Dawkins objected to their entering London before
nightfall； it was nearly seven o’clock when they reached the
turnpike at Islington。 They crossed from the Angel into St。 John’s
Road； struck down the small street which terminates at Sadler’s
Wells Theatre； through Exmouth Street and Coppice Row； down
the little court by the side of the workhouse； across the classic
ground which once bore the name of Hockley…in…the…Hole； thence
into Little Saffron Hill； and so into Saffron Hill the Great； along
which the Dodger scudded at a rapid pace； directing Oliver to
follow close at his heels。
Although Oliver had enough to occupy his attention in keeping
sight of his leader； he could not help bestowing a few hasty glances
on either side of the way； as he passed along。 A dirtier or more
wretched place he had never seen。 The street was very narrow
and muddy； and the air was impregnated with filthy odours。 There
were a good many small shops； but the only stock in trade
appeared to be heaps of children； who； even at that time of night；
were crawling in and out at the doors； or screaming from the
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
Oliver Twist
inside。 The sole places that seemed to prosper amid the general
blight of the place； were the public…houses； and in them； the lowest
orders of Irish were wrangling with might and main。 Covered
ways and yards； where here and there diverged from the main
street； disclosed little knots of houses； where drunken men and
women were positively wallowing in filth； and from several of the
doorways； great ill…looking fellows were cautiously emerging；
bound； to all appearance； on no very well…disposed or harmless
errands。
Oliver was just considering whether he hadn’t better run away；
when they reached the bottom of the hill。 His conductor； catching
him by the arm； pushed open the door of a house near Field Lane；
and； drawing him into the passage； closed it behind them。
“Now； then！” cried a voice from below； in reply to a whistle
from the Dodger。
“Plummy and slam！” was the reply。
This seemed to be some watchword or signal that all was right；
for the light of a feeble candle gleamed on the wall at the remote
end of the passage； and a man’s face peeped out； from where a
balustrade of the old kitchen staircase had been broken away。
“There’s two on you；” said the man； thrusting the candle
farther out； and shading his eyes with his hand。 “Who’s the t’other
one？”
“A new pal；” replied Jack Dawkins； pulling Oliver forward。
“Where did he come from？”
“Greenland。 Is Fagin upstairs？”
“Yes； he’s a…sortin’ the wipes。 Up with you！” The candle was
drawn back； and the face disappeared。
Oliver； groping his way with one hand； and having the other
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Oliver Twist
firmly grasped by his companion； ascended with much difficulty
the dark and broken stairs； which his conductor mounted with an
ease and expedition that showed that he was well acquainted with
them。 He threw open the door of a