Олівер Твіст

Chapter 5

           ‘Shewasmydaughter,’saidtheoldwoman,noddingherheadinthedirectionofthecorpse;andspeakingwithanidioticleer,moreghastlythaneventhepresenceofdeathinsuchaplace.‘Lord,Lord!Well,itISstrangethatIwhogavebirthtoher,andwasawomanthen,shouldbealiveandmerrynow,andshelyingther:socoldandstiff!Lord,Lord!tothinkofit;it’sasgoodasaplayasgoodasaplay!’

           Asthewretchedcreaturemumbledandchuckledinherhideousmerriment,theundertakerturnedtogoaway.

           ‘Stop,stop!’saidtheoldwomaninaloudwhisper.‘Willshebeburiedto-morrow,ornextday,orto-night?Ilaidherout;andImustwalk,youknow.Sendmealargecloak:agoodwarmone:foritisbittercold.Weshouldhavecakeandwine,too,beforewego!Nevermind;sendsomebreadonlyaloafofbreadandacupofwater.Shallwehavesomebread,dear?’shesaideagerly:

           catchingattheundertaker’scoat,asheoncemoremovedtowardsthedoor.

           ‘Yes,yes,’saidtheundertaker,‘ofcourse.Anythingyoulike!’Hedisengagedhimselffromtheoldwoman’sgrasp;and,drawingOliverafterhim,hurriedaway.

           Thenextday,(thefamilyhavingbeenmeanwhilerelievedwithahalf-quarternloafandapieceofcheese,leftwiththembyMr.Bumblehimself,)Oliverandhismasterreturnedtothemiserableabode;whereMr.Bumblehadalreadyarrived,accompaniedbyfourmenfromtheworkhouse,whoweretoactasbearers.Anoldblackcloakhadbeenthrownovertheragsoftheoldwomanandtheman;andthebarecoffinhavingbeenscreweddown,washoistedontheshouldersofthebearers,andcarriedintothestreet.

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