Олівер Твіст

Chapter 14

           ‘Youdon’tmeantosaythat’stheboywhohadthefever,Ihope?’saidMr.Grimwig,recoilingalittlemore.‘Waitaminute!Don’tspeak!StopcontinuedMr.Grimwig,abruptly,losingalldreadofthefeverinhistriumphatthediscovery;‘that’stheboywhohadtheorange!Ifthat’snottheboy,sir,whohadtheorange,andthrewthisbitofpeeluponthestaircase,I’lleatmyhead,andhistoo.

           ‘No,no,hehasnothadone,’saidMr.Brownlow,laughing.‘Come!Putdownyourhat;andspeaktomyyoungfriend.

           ‘Ifeelstronglyonthissubject,sir,’saidtheirritableoldgentleman,drawingoffhisgloves.‘There’salwaysmoreorlessorange-peelonthepavementinourstreet;andIKNOWit’sputtherebythesurgeon’sboyatthecorner.Ayoungwomanstumbledoverabitlastnight,andfellagainstmygarden-railings;directlyshegotupIsawherlooktowardshisinfernalredlampwiththepantomime-light."Don’tgotohim,"Icalledoutofthewindow,"he’sanassassin!Aman-trap!"Soheis.IfheisnotHeretheirascibleoldgentlemangaveagreatknockonthegroundwithhisstick;whichwasalwaysunderstood,byhisfriends,toimplythecustomaryoffer,wheneveritwasnotexpressedinwords.Then,stillkeepinghisstickinhishand,hesatdown;and,openingadoubleeye-glass,whichheworeattachedtoabroadblackriband,tookaviewofOliver:who,seeingthathewastheobjectofinspection,coloured,andbowedagain.

           ‘That’stheboy,isit?’saidMr.Grimwig,atlength.

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