Олівер Твіст

Chapter 8

           Whentheoutsidessawthis,theyputtheirhalfpencebackintotheirpocketsagain,declaringthathewasanidleyoungdog,anddidn’tdeserveanything;andthecoachrattledawayandleftonlyacloudofdustbehind.

           Insomevillages,largepaintedboardswerefixedup:warningallpersonswhobeggedwithinthedistrict,thattheywouldbesenttojail.ThisfrightenedOliververymuch,andmadehimgladtogetoutofthosevillageswithallpossibleexpedition.Inothers,hewouldstandabouttheinn-yards,andlookmournfullyateveryonewhopassed:aproceedingwhichgenerallyterminatedinthelandlady’sorderingoneofthepost-boyswhowereloungingabout,todrivethatstrangeboyoutoftheplace,forshewassurehehadcometostealsomething.Ifhebeggedatafarmer’shouse,tentoonebuttheythreatenedtosetthedogonhim;andwhenheshowedhisnoseinashop,theytalkedaboutthebeadlewhichbroughtOliver’sheartintohismouthveryoftentheonlythinghehadthere,formanyhourstogether.

           Infact,ifithadnotbeenforagood-heartedturnpike-man,andabenevolentoldlady,Oliver’stroubleswouldhavebeenshortenedbytheverysameprocesswhichhadputanendtohismother’s;inotherwords,hewouldmostassuredlyhavefallendeadupontheking’shighway.Buttheturnpike-mangavehimamealofbreadandcheese;andtheoldlady,whohadashipwreckedgrandsonwanderingbarefootinsomedistantpartoftheearth,tookpityuponthepoororphan,andgavehimwhatlittleshecouldaffordandmorewithsuchkindandgentlywords,andsuchtearsofsympathyandcompassion,thattheysankdeeperintoOliver’ssoul,thanallthesufferingshehadeverundergone.

           Earlyontheseventhmorningafterhehadlefthisnativeplace,OliverlimpedslowlyintothelittletownofBarnet.Thewindow-shutterswereclosed;thestreetwasempty;notasoulhadawakenedtothebusinessoftheday.

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