Олівер Твіст

Chapter 3

           OliverstaredinnocentlyinMr.Bumble’sfaceatthissomewhatcontradictorystyleofaddress;butthatgentlemanpreventedhisofferinganyremarkthereupon,byleadinghimatonceintoanadjoiningroom:thedoorofwhichwasopen.Itwasalargeroom,withagreatwindow.Behindadesk,sattwooldgentlemanwithpowderedheads:oneofwhomwasreadingthenewspaper;whiletheotherwasperusing,withtheaidofapairoftortoise-shellspectacles,asmallpieceofparchmentwhichlaybeforehim.Mr.Limbkinswasstandinginfrontofthedeskononeside;andMr.Gamfield,withapartiallywashedface,ontheother;whiletwoorthreebluff-lookingmen,intop-boots,wereloungingabout.

           Theoldgentlemanwiththespectaclesgraduallydozedoff,overthelittlebitofparchment;andtherewasashortpause,afterOliverhadbeenstationedbyMr.Bumbleinfrontofthedesk.

           ‘Thisistheboy,yourworship,’saidMr.Bumble.

           Theoldgentlemanwhowasreadingthenewspaperraisedhisheadforamoment,andpulledtheotheroldgentlemanbythesleeve;whereupon,thelast-mentionedoldgentlemanwokeup.

           ‘Oh,isthistheboy?’saidtheoldgentleman.

           ‘Thisishim,sir,’repliedMr.Bumble.‘Bowtothemagistrate,mydear.

           Oliverrousedhimself,andmadehisbestobeisance.Hehadbeenwondering,withhiseyesfixedonthemagistrates’powder,whetherallboardswerebornwiththatwhitestuffontheirheads,andwereboardsfromthenceforthonthataccount.

           ‘Well,’saidtheoldgentleman,‘Isupposehe’sfondofchimney-sweeping?’

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