Олівер Твіст

Chapter 37

           ‘Andtheplace,thecrazyhole,whereveritwas,inwhichmiserabledrabsbroughtforththelifeandhealthsooftendeniedtothemselvesgavebirthtopulingchildrenfortheparishtorear;andhidtheirshame,rot’eminthegrave!’

           ‘Thelying-inroom,Isuppose?’saidMr.Bumble,notquitefollowingthestranger’sexciteddescription.

           ‘Yes,’saidthestranger.‘Aboywasbornthere.

           ‘Amanyboys,’observedMr.Bumble,shakinghishead,despondingly.

           ‘Amurrainontheyoungdevils!’criedthestranger;‘Ispeakofone;ameek-looking,pale-facedboy,whowasapprenticeddownhere,toacoffin-makerIwishhehadmadehiscoffin,andscrewedhisbodyinitandwhoafterwardsranawaytoLondon,asitwassupposed.

           ‘Why,youmeanOliver!YoungTwist!’saidMr.Bumble;‘Irememberhim,ofcourse.Therewasn’taobstinateryoungrascal

           ‘It’snotofhimIwanttohear;I’veheardenoughofhim,’saidthestranger,stoppingMr.BumbleintheoutsetofatiradeonthesubjectofpoorOliver’svices.‘It’sofawoman;thehagthatnursedhismother.Whereisshe?’

           ‘Whereisshe?’saidMr.Bumble,whomthegin-and-waterhadrenderedfacetious.‘Itwouldbehardtotell.There’snomidwiferythere,whicheverplaceshe’sgoneto;soIsupposeshe’soutofemployment,anyway.

           ‘Whatdoyoumean?’demandedthestranger,sternly.

           ‘Thatshediedlastwinter,’rejoinedMr.Bumble.

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