Oliver Twist
“Oh! you’ve thought better of it, have you?” growled Sikes, marking the
tear which trembled in her eye. “All the better for you, you have.”
“Why, you don’t mean to say, you’d be hard upon me tonight, Bill,”
said the girl, laying her hand upon his shoulder.
“No!” cried Mr. Sikes. “Why not?”
“Such a number of nights,” said the girl, with a touch of woman’s
tenderness, which communicated something like sweetness of tone, even
to her voice: “such a number of nights as I’ve been patient with you,
nursing and caring for you, as if you had been a child: and this the
first that I’ve seen you like yourself; you wouldn’t have served me as
you did just now, if you’d thought of that, would you? Come, come; say
you wouldn’t.”
“Well, then,” rejoined Mr. Sikes, “I wouldn’t. Why, damme, now, the
girls’s whining again!”
“It’s nothing,” said the girl, throwing herself into a chair. “Don’t
you seem to mind me. It’ll soon be over.”
“What’ll be over?” demanded Mr. Sikes in a savage voice. “What foolery
are you up to, now, again? Get up and bustle about, and don’t come over
me with your woman’s nonsense.”
At any other time, this remonstrance, and the tone in which it was
delivered, would have had the desired effect; but the girl being really
weak and exhausted, dropped her head over the back of the chair, and
fainted, before Mr. Sikes could get out a few of the appropriate oaths
with which, on similar occasions, he was accustomed to garnish his
threats. Not knowing, very well, what to do, in this uncommon
emergency; for Miss Nancy’s hysterics were usually of that violent kind
which the patient fights and struggles out of, without much assistance;
Mr. Sikes tried a little blasphemy: and finding that mode of treatment
wholly ineffectual, called for assistance.
“What’s the matter here, my dear?” said Fagin, looking in.
“Lend a hand to the girl, can’t you?” replied Sikes impatiently. “Don’t
stand chattering and grinning at me!”
With an exclamation of surprise, Fagin hastened to the girl’s
assistance, while Mr. John Dawkins (otherwise the Artful Dodger), who
had followed his venerable friend into the room, hastily deposited on
the floor a bundle with which he was laden; and snatching a bottle from
the grasp of Master Charles Bates who came close at his heels, uncorked
it in a twinkling with his teeth, and poured a portion of its contents
down the patient’s throat: previously taking a taste, himself, to
prevent mistakes.
“Give her a whiff of fresh air with the bellows, Charley,” said Mr.
Dawkins; “and you slap her hands, Fagin, while Bill undoes the
petticuts.”
These united restoratives, administered with great energy: especially
that department consigned to Master Bates, who appeared to consider his
share in the proceedings, a piece of unexampled pleasantry: were not
long in producing the desired effect. The girl gradually recovered her
senses; and, staggering to a chair by the bedside, hid her face upon
the pillow: leaving Mr. Sikes to confront the new comers, in some
astonishment at their unlooked-for appearance.
“Why, what evil wind has blowed you here?” he asked Fagin.
“No evil wind at all, my dear, for evil winds blow nobody any good; and
I’ve brought something good with me, that you’ll be glad to see.
Dodger, my dear, open the bundle; and give Bill the little trifles that
we spent all our money on, this morning.”
In compliance with Mr. Fagin’s request, the Artful untied this bundle,
which was of large size, and formed of an old table-cloth; and handed
the articles it contained, one by one, to Charley Bates: who placed
them on the table, with various encomiums on their rarity and
excellence.
“Sitch a rabbit pie, Bill,” exclaimed that young gentleman, disclosing
to view a huge pasty; “sitch delicate creeturs, with sitch tender
limbs, Bill, that the wery bones melt in your mouth, and there’s no
occasion to pick ’em; half a pound of seven and six-penny green, so
precious strong that if you mix it with biling water, it’ll go nigh to
blow the lid of the tea-pot off; a pound and a half of moist sugar that
the niggers didn’t work at all at, afore they got it up to sitch a
pitch of goodness,—oh no! Two half-quartern brans; pound of best fresh;
piece of double Glo’ster; and, to wind up all, some of the richest sort
you ever lushed!”
Uttering this last panegyric, Master Bates produced, from one of his
extensive pockets, a full-sized wine-bottle, carefully corked; while
Mr. Dawkins, at the same instant, poured out a wine-glassful of raw
spirits from the bottle he carried: which the invalid tossed down his
throat without a moment’s hesitation.
“Ah!” said Fagin, rubbing his hands with great satisfaction. “You’ll
do, Bill; you’ll do now.”
“Do!” exclaimed Mr. Sikes; “I might have been done for, twenty times
over, afore you’d have done anything to help me. What do you mean by
leaving a man in this state, three weeks and more, you false-hearted
wagabond?”
“Only hear him, boys!” said Fagin, shrugging his shoulders. “And us
come to bring him all these beau-ti-ful things.”
“The things is well enough in their way,” observed Mr. Sikes: a little
soothed as he glanced over the table; “but what have you got to say for
yourself, why you should leave me here, down in the mouth, health,
blunt, and everything else; and take no more notice of me, all this
mortal time, than if I was that ’ere dog.—Drive him down, Charley!”
“I never see such a jolly dog as that,” cried Master Bates, doing as he
was desired. “Smelling the grub like a old lady a going to market! He’d
make his fortun’ on the stage that dog would, and rewive the drayma
besides.”
“Hold your din,” cried Sikes, as the dog retreated under the bed: still
growling angrily. “What have you got to say for yourself, you withered
old fence, eh?”
“I was away from London, a week and more, my dear, on a plant,” replied
the Jew.
“And what about the other fortnight?” demanded Sikes. “What about the
other fortnight that you’ve left me lying here, like a sick rat in his
hole?”
“I couldn’t help it, Bill. I can’t go into a long explanation before
company; but I couldn’t help it, upon my honour.”
“Upon your what?” growled Sikes, with excessive disgust. “Here! Cut me
off a piece of that pie, one of you boys, to take the taste of that out
of my mouth, or it’ll choke me dead.”
“Don’t be out of temper, my dear,” urged Fagin, submissively. “I have
never forgot you, Bill; never once.”
“No! I’ll pound it that you han’t,” replied Sikes, with a bitter grin.
“You’ve been scheming and plotting away, every hour that I have laid
shivering and burning here; and Bill was to do this; and Bill was to do
that; and Bill was to do it all, dirt cheap, as soon as he got well:
and was quite poor enough for your work. If it hadn’t been for the
girl, I might have died.”
“There now, Bill,” remonstrated Fagin, eagerly catching at the word.
“If it hadn’t been for the girl! Who but poor ould Fagin was the means
of your having such a handy girl about you?”
“He says true enough there!” said Nancy, coming hastily forward. “Let
him be; let him be.”
Nancy’s appearance gave a new turn to the conversation; for the boys,
receiving a sly wink from the wary old Jew, began to ply her with
liquor: of which, however, she took very sparingly; while Fagin,
assuming an unusual flow of spirits, gradually brought Mr. Sikes into a
better temper, by affecting to regard his threats as a little pleasant
banter; and, moreover, by laughing very heartily at one or two rough
jokes, which, after repeated applications to the spirit-bottle, he
condescended to make.
“It’s all very well,” said Mr. Sikes; “but I must have some blunt from
you tonight.”
“I haven’t a piece of coin about me,” replied the Jew.
“Then you’ve got lots at home,” retorted Sikes; “and I must have some
from there.”
“Lots!” cried Fagin, holding up his hands. “I haven’t so much as would—”
“I don’t know how much you’ve got, and I dare say you hardly know
yourself, as it would take a pretty long time to count it,” said Sikes;
“but I must have some tonight; and that’s flat.”
“Well, well,” said Fagin, with a sigh, “I’ll send the Artful round
presently.”
“You won’t do nothing of the kind,” rejoined Mr. Sikes. “The Artful’s a
deal too artful, and would forget to come, or lose his way, or get
dodged by traps and so be perwented, or anything for an excuse, if you
put him up to it. Nancy shall go to the ken and fetch it, to make all
sure; and I’ll lie down and have a snooze while she’s gone.”
After a great deal of haggling and squabbling, Fagin beat down the
amount of the required advance from five pounds to three pounds four
and sixpence: protesting with many solemn asseverations that that would
only leave him eighteen-pence to keep house with; Mr. Sikes sullenly
remarking that if he couldn’t get any more he must accompany him home;
with the Dodger and Master Bates put the eatables in the cupboard. The
Jew then, taking leave of his affectionate friend, returned homeward,
attended by Nancy and the boys: Mr. Sikes, meanwhile, flinging himself
on the bed, and composing himself to sleep away the time until the
young lady’s return.
In due course, they arrived at Fagin’s abode, where they found Toby
Crackit and Mr. Chitling intent upon their fifteenth game at cribbage,
which it is scarcely necessary to say the latter gentleman lost, and
with it, his fifteenth and last sixpence: much to the amusement of his
young friends. Mr. Crackit, apparently somewhat ashamed at being found
relaxing himself with a gentleman so much his inferior in station and
mental endowments, yawned, and inquiring after Sikes, took up his hat
to go.
“Has nobody been, Toby?” asked Fagin.
“Not a living leg,” answered Mr. Crackit, pulling up his collar; “it’s
been as dull as swipes. You ought to stand something handsome, Fagin,
to recompense me for keeping house so long. Damme, I’m as flat as a
juryman; and should have gone to sleep, as fast as Newgate, if I hadn’t
had the good natur’ to amuse this youngster. Horrid dull, I’m blessed
if I an’t!”
With these and other ejaculations of the same kind, Mr. Toby Crackit
swept up his winnings, and crammed them into his waistcoat pocket with
a haughty air, as though such small pieces of silver were wholly
beneath the consideration of a man of his figure; this done, he
swaggered out of the room, with so much elegance and gentility, that
Mr. Chitling, bestowing numerous admiring glances on his legs and boots
till they were out of sight, assured the company that he considered his
acquaintance cheap at fifteen sixpences an interview, and that he
didn’t value his losses the snap of his little finger.
“Wot a rum chap you are, Tom!” said Master Bates, highly amused by this
declaration.
“Not a bit of it,” replied Mr. Chitling. “Am I, Fagin?”
“A very clever fellow, my dear,” said Fagin, patting him on the
shoulder, and winking to his other pupils.
“And Mr. Crackit is a heavy swell; an’t he, Fagin?” asked Tom.
“No doubt at all of that, my dear.”
“And it is a creditable thing to have his acquaintance; an’t it,
Fagin?” pursued Tom.
“Very much so, indeed, my dear. They’re only jealous, Tom, because he
won’t give it to them.”
“Ah!” cried Tom, triumphantly, “that’s where it is! He has cleaned me
out. But I can go and earn some more, when I like; can’t I, Fagin?”
“To be sure you can, and the sooner you go the better, Tom; so make up
your loss at once, and don’t lose any more time. Dodger! Charley! It’s
time you were on the lay. Come! It’s near ten, and nothing done yet.”
In obedience to this hint, the boys, nodding to Nancy, took up their
hats, and left the room; the Dodger and his vivacious friend indulging,
as they went, in many witticisms at the expense of Mr. Chitling; in