Олівер Твіст

Chapter 8

           ‘Whatmill!Why,THEmillthemillastakesupsolittleroomthatit’llworkinsideaStoneJug;andalwaysgoesbetterwhenthewind’slowwithpeople,thanwhenit’shigh;acosthentheycan’tgetworkmen.Butcome,’saidtheyounggentleman;‘youwantgrub,andyoushallhaveit.I’matlow-water-markmyselfonlyonebobandamagpie;but,asfarasitgoes,I’llforkoutandstump.Upwithyouonyourpins.There!Nowthen!

           Morrice!’

           AssistingOlivertorise,theyounggentlemantookhimtoanadjacentchandler’sshop,wherehepurchasedasufficiencyofready-dressedhamandahalf-quarternloaf,or,ashehimselfexpressedit,‘afourpennybran!’thehambeingkeptcleanandpreservedfromdust,bytheingeniousexpedientofmakingaholeintheloafbypullingoutaportionofthecrumb,andstuffingittherein.Takingthebreadunderhisarm,theyounggentlmanturnedintoasmallpublic-house,andledthewaytoatap-roomintherearofthepremises.Here,apotofbeerwasbroughtin,bydirectionofthemysteriousyouth;andOliver,fallingto,athisnewfriend’sbidding,madealongandheartymeal,duringtheprogressofwhichthestrangeboyeyedhimfromtimetotimewithgreatattention.

           ‘GoingtoLondon?’saidthestrangeboy,whenOliverhadatlengthconcluded.

           ‘Yes.

           ‘Gotanylodgings?’

           ‘No.

           ‘Money?’

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