Олівер Твіст

Chapter 16

           TheyounggentlemandidnotstoptobestowanyothermarkofrecognitionuponOliverthanahumourousgrin;but,turningaway,beckonedthevisitorstofollowhimdownaflightofstairs.Theycrossedanemptykitchen;and,openingthedoorofalowearthy-smellingroom,whichseemedtohavebeenbuiltinasmallback-yard,werereceivedwithashoutoflaughter.

           ‘Oh,mywig,mywig!’criedMasterCharlesBates,fromwhoselungsthelaughterhadproceeded:‘hereheis!oh,cry,hereheis!Oh,Fagin,lookathim!Fagin,dolookathim!Ican’tbearit;itissuchajollygame,Icant’bearit.Holdme,somebody,whileIlaughitout.

           Withthisirrepressibleebullitionofmirth,MasterBateslaidhimselfflatonthefloor:andkickedconvulsivelyforfiveminutes,inanectasyoffacetiousjoy.Thenjumpingtohisfeet,hesnatchedthecleftstickfromtheDodger;and,advancingtoOliver,viewedhimroundandround;whiletheJew,takingoffhisnightcap,madeagreatnumberoflowbowstothebewilderedboy.TheArtful,meantime,whowasofarathersaturninedisposition,andseldomgavewaytomerrimentwhenitinterferedwithbusiness,rifledOliver’spocketswithsteadyassiduity.

           ‘Lookathistogs,Fagin!’saidCharley,puttingthelightsoclosetohisnewjacketasnearlytosethimonfire.‘Lookathistogs!Superfinecloth,andtheheavyswellcut!Oh,myeye,whatagame!Andhisbooks,too!Nothingbutagentleman,Fagin!’

           ‘Delightedtoseeyoulookingsowell,mydear,’saidtheJew,bowingwithmockhumility.

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