Олівер Твіст

Chapter 8

           Thesunwasrisinginallitssplendidbeauty;butthelightonlyservedtoshowtheboyhisownlonesomenessanddesolation,ashesat,withbleedingfeetandcoveredwithdust,uponadoor-step.

           Bydegrees,theshutterswereopened;thewindow-blindsweredrawnup;andpeoplebeganpassingtoandfro.SomefewstoppedtogazeatOliverforamomentortwo,orturnedroundtostareathimastheyhurriedby;butnonerelievedhim,ortroubledthemselvestoinquirehowhecamethere.Hehadnohearttobeg.Andtherehesat.

           Hehadbeencrouchingonthestepforsometime:wonderingatthegreatnumberofpublic-houses(everyotherhouseinBarnetwasatavern,largeorsmall),gazinglistlesslyatthecoachesastheypassedthrough,andthinkinghowstrangeitseemedthattheycoulddo,withease,inafewhours,whatithadtakenhimawholeweekofcourageanddeterminationbeyondhisyearstoaccomplish:whenhewasrousedbyobservingthataboy,whohadpassedhimcarelesslysomeminutesbefore,hadreturned,andwasnowsurveyinghimmostearnestlyfromtheoppositesideoftheway.Hetooklittleheedofthisatfirst;buttheboyremainedinthesameattitudeofcloseobservationsolong,thatOliverraisedhishead,andreturnedhissteadylook.Uponthis,theboycrossedover;andwalkingcloseuptoOliver,said

           ‘Hullo,mycovey!What’stherow?’

           Theboywhoaddressedthisinquirytotheyoungwayfarer,wasabouthisownage:butoneofthequeerestlookingboysthatOliverhadevenseen.Hewasasnub-nosed,flat-browed,common-facedboyenough;andasdirtyajuvenileasonewouldwishtosee;buthehadabouthimalltheairsandmannersofaman.Hewasshortofhisage:withratherbow-legs,andlittle,sharp,uglyeyes.

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