Олівер Твіст

Chapter 13

           ‘Nolly,dear?’murmuredNancyinagentlevoice;‘Nolly?’

           Therewasnobodyinsidebutamiserableshoelesscriminal,whohadbeentakenupforplayingtheflute,andwho,theoffenceagainstsocietyhavingbeenclearlyproved,hadbeenveryproperlycommittedbyMr.FangtotheHouseofCorrectionforonemonth;withtheappropriateandamusingremarkthatsincehehadsomuchbreathtospare,itwouldbemorewholesomelyexpendedonthetreadmillthaninamusicalinstrument.Hemadenoanswer:beingoccupiedmentallybewailingthelossoftheflute,whichhadbeenconfiscatedfortheuseofthecounty:soNancypassedontothenextcell,andknockedthere.

           ‘Well!’criedafaintandfeeblevoice.

           ‘Istherealittleboyhere?’inquiredNancy,withapreliminarysob.

           ‘No,’repliedthevoice;‘Godforbid.

           Thiswasavagrantofsixty-five,whowasgoingtoprisonforNOTplayingtheflute;or,inotherwords,forbegginginthestreets,anddoingnothingforhislivelihood.Inthenextcellwasanotherman,whowasgoingtothesameprisonforhawkingtinsaucepanswithoutlicense;therebydoingsomethingforhisliving,indefianceoftheStamp-office.

           But,asneitherofthesecriminalsansweredtothenameofOliver,orknewanythingabouthim,Nancymadestraightuptothebluffofficerinthestripedwaistcoat;andwiththemostpiteouswailingsandlamentations,renderedmorepiteousbyapromptandefficientuseofthestreet-doorkeyandthelittlebasket,demandedherowndearbrother.

           ‘Ihaven’tgothim,mydear,’saidtheoldman.

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