Олівер Твіст

Chapter 17

           Thechildwaspaleandthin;hischeeksweresunken;andhiseyeslargeandbright.Thescantyparishdress,theliveryofhismisery,hunglooselyonhisfeeblebody;andhisyounglimbshadwastedaway,likethoseofanoldman.

           SuchwasthelittlebeingwhostoodtremblingbeneathMr.Bumble’sglance;notdaringtolifthiseyesfromthefloor;anddreadingeventohearthebeadle’svoice.

           ‘Can’tyoulookatthegentleman,youobstinateboy?’saidMrs.Mann.

           Thechildmeeklyraisedhiseyes,andencounteredthoseofMr.Bumble.

           ‘What’sthematterwithyou,porochialDick?’inquiredMr.Bumble,withwell-timedjocularity.

           ‘Nothing,sir,’repliedthechildfaintly.

           ‘Ishouldthinknot,’saidMrs.Mann,whohadofcourselaughedverymuchatMr.Bumble’shumour.

           ‘Youwantfornothing,I’msure.

           ‘Ishouldlikefalteredthechild.

           ‘Hey-day!’interposedMr.Mann,‘Isupposeyou’regoingtosaythatyouDOwantforsomething,now?Why,youlittlewretch

           ‘Stop,Mrs.Mann,stop!’saidthebeadle,raisinghishandwithashowofauthority.‘Likewhat,sir,eh?’

           ‘Ishouldlike,’saidthechild,‘toleavemydearlovetopoorOliverTwist;andtolethimknowhowoftenIhavesatbymyselfandcriedtothinkofhiswanderingaboutinthedarknightswithnobodytohelphim.

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