Oliver Twist

by Charles Dickens

Master Bates saw something so exquisitely ludicrous in this reply, that he burst into another laugh; which laugh, meeting the coffee he was drinking, and carrying it down some wrong channel, very nearly terminated in his premature suffocation.

Having him set, here, by the fire-side, the good old lady sat herself down too; and, being in a state of considerable delight at seeing him so much better, forthwith began to cry most violently. ‘Never mind me, my dear,’ said the old lady; ‘I’m only having a regular good cry. There; it’s all over now; and I’m quite comfortable.’

It was not until the two boys had scoured, with great rapidity, through a most intricate maze of narrow streets and courts, that they ventured to halt beneath a low and dark archway. Having remained silent here, just long enough to recover breath to speak, Master Bates uttered an exclamation of amusement and delight; and, bursting into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, flung himself upon a doorstep, and rolled thereon in a transport of mirth. ‘What’s the matter?’ inquired the Dodger. ‘Ha! ha! ha!’ roared Charley Bates. ‘Hold your noise,’ remonstrated the Dodger, looking cautiously round. ‘Do you want to be grabbed, stupid?’

‘What do you mean?’ said Charley. ‘Toor rul lol loo, gammon and spinnage, the frog he wouldn’t, and high cockolorum,’ said the Dodger: with a slight sneer on his intellectual countenance. This was explanatory, but not satisfactory. Master Bates felt it so; and again said, ‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh, my wig, my wig!’ cried Master Charles Bates, from whose lungs the laughter had proceeded: ‘here he is! oh, cry, here he is! Oh, Fagin, look at him! Fagin, do look at him! I can’t bear it; it is such a jolly game, I cant’ bear it. Hold me, somebody, while I laugh it out.’ With this irrepressible ebullition of mirth, Master Bates laid himself flat on the floor: and kicked convulsively for five minutes, in an ectasy of facetious joy.

‘Here! you get on first,’ said Sikes, putting Oliver in front of him. ‘Quicker! or I shall tread upon your heels.’

The tea was made, and handed in silence. Mr. Bumble, having spread a handkerchief over his knees to prevent the crumbs from sullying the splendour of his shorts, began to eat and drink; varying these amusements, occasionally, by fetching a deep sigh; which, however, had no injurious effect upon his appetite, but, on the contrary, rather seemed to facilitate his operations in the tea and toast department.

‘Mrs. Corney, ma’am, said Mr. Bumble, slowly, and marking the time with his teaspoon, ‘I mean to say this, ma’am; that any cat, or kitten, that could live with you, ma’am, and NOT be fond of its home, must be a ass, ma’am.’

‘I should say,’ replied Master Bates, with a grin, ‘that he was uncommon sweet upon Betsy. See how he’s a-blushing! Oh, my eye! here’s a merry-go-rounder! Tommy Chitling’s in love! Oh, Fagin, Fagin! what a spree!’ Thoroughly overpowered with the notion of Mr. Chitling being the victim of the tender passion, Master Bates threw himself back in his chair with such violence, that he lost his balance, and pitched over upon the floor; where (the accident abating nothing of his merriment) he lay at full length until his laugh was over, when he resumed his former position, and began another laugh.

‘I’ll tell you what it is, gentlemen,’ said he, ‘we’re all afraid.’ ‘Speak for yourself, sir,’ said Mr. Giles, who was the palest of the party. ‘So I do,’ replied the man. ‘It’s natural and proper to be afraid, under such circumstances. I am.’ ‘So am I,’ said Brittles; ‘only there’s no call to tell a man he is, so bounceably.’

‘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.’

‘It’s no good being proper in this world,’ said the first housemaid.

The kind tone of this answer, the sweet voice, the gentle manner, the absence of any accent of haughtiness or displeasure, took the girl completely by surprise, and she burst into tears. ‘Oh, lady, lady!’ she said, clasping her hands passionately before her face, ‘if there was more like you, there would be fewer like me — there would — there would!’