Олівер Твіст

Chapter 15

           Hewaswalkingalong,thinkinghowhappyandcontentedheoughttofeel;andhowmuchhewouldgiveforonlyonelookatpoorlittleDick,who,starvedandbeaten,mightbeweepingbitterlyatthatverymoment;whenhewasstartledbyayoungwomanscreamingoutveryloud.‘Oh,mydearbrother!’Andhehadhardlylookedup,toseewhatthematterwas,whenhewasstoppedbyhavingapairofarmsthrowntightroundhisneck.

           ‘Don’t,’criedOliver,struggling.‘Letgoofme.Whoisit?Whatareyoustoppingmefor?’

           Theonlyreplytothis,wasagreatnumberofloudlamentationsfromtheyoungwomanwhohadembracedhim;andwhohadalittlebasketandastreet-doorkeyinherhand.

           ‘Ohmygracious!’saidtheyoungwoman,‘Ihavefoundhim!Oh!Oliver!Oliver!Ohyounaughtyboy,tomakemesuffersuchdistressonyouraccount!Comehome,dear,come.Oh,I’vefoundhim.Thankgraciousgoodnessheavins,I’vefoundhim!’Withtheseincoherentexclamations,theyoungwomanburstintoanotherfitofcrying,andgotsodreadfullyhysterical,thatacoupleofwomenwhocameupatthemomentaskedabutcher’sboywithashinyheadofhairanointedwithsuet,whowasalsolookingon,whetherhedidn’tthinkhehadbetterrunforthedoctor.Towhich,thebutcher’sboy:whoappearedofalounging,nottosayindolentdisposition:replied,thathethoughtnot.

           ‘Oh,no,no,nevermind,’saidtheyoungwoman,graspingOliver’shand;‘I’mbetternow.

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