CHAPTER IX

CONTAINING FURTHER PARTICULARS CONCERNING THE PLEASANT OLD

GENTLEMAN, AND HIS HOPEFUL PUPILS

It was late next morning when Oliver awoke, from a sound, long

sleep. There was no other person in the room but the old Jew,

who was boiling some coffee in a saucepan for breakfast, and

whistling softly to himself as he stirred it round and round,

with an iron spoon. He would stop every now and then to listen

when there was the least noise below: and when he had satistified

himself, he would go on whistling and stirring again, as before.

Although Oliver had roused himself from sleep, he was not

thoroughly awake. There is a drowsy state, between sleeping and

waking, when you dream more in five minutes with your eyes half

open, and yourself half conscious of everything that is passing

around you, than you would in five nights with your eyes fast

closed, and your senses wrapt in perfect unconsciousness. At

such time, a mortal knows just enough of what his mind is doing,

to form some glimmering conception of its mighty powers, its

bounding from earth and spurning time and space, when freed from

the restraint of its corporeal associate.

Oliver was precisely in this condition. He saw the Jew with his

half-closed eyes; heard his low whistling; and recognised the

sound of the spoon grating against the saucepan's sides: and yet

the self-same senses were mentally engaged, at the same time, in

busy action with almost everybody he had ever known.

When the coffee was done, the Jew drew the saucepan to the hob.

Standing, then in an irresolute attitude for a few minutes, as if

he did not well know how to employ himself, he turned round and

looked at Oliver, and called him by his name. He did not answer,

and was to all appearances asleep.

After satisfiying himself upon this head, the Jew stepped gently

to the door: which he fastened. He then drew forth: as it

seemed to Oliver, from some trap in the floor: a small box,

which he placed carefully on the table. His eyes glistened as he

raised the lid, and looked in. Dragging an old chair to the

table, he sat down; and took from it a magnificent gold watch,

sparkling with jewels.

'Aha!' said the Jew, shrugging up his shoulders, and distorting

every feature with a hideous grin. 'Clever dogs! Clever dogs!

Staunch to the last! Never told the old parson where they were.

Never poached upon old Fagin! And why should they? It wouldn't

have loosened the knot, or kept the drop up, a minute longer.

No, no, no! Fine fellows! Fine fellows!'

With these, and other muttered reflections of the like nature,

the Jew once more deposited the watch in its place of safety. At

least half a dozen more were severally drawn forth from the same

box, and surveyed with equal pleasure; besides rings, brooches,

bracelet, and other articles of jewellery, of such magnificent

materials, and costly workmanship, that Oliver had no idea, even

of their names.

Having replaced these trinkets, the Jew took out another: so

small that it lay in the palm of his hand. There seemed to be

some very minute inscription on it; for the Jew laid it flat upon

the table, and shading it with his hand, pored over it, long and

earnestly. At length he put it down, as if despairing of

success; and, leaning back in his chair, muttered:

'What a fine thing capital punishment is! Dead men never repent;

dead men never bring awkward stories to light. Ah, it's a fine

thing for the trade! Five of 'em strung up in a row, and none

left to play booty, or turn white-livered!'

As the Jew uttered these words, his bright dark eyes, which had

been staring vacantly before him, fell on Oliver's face; the

boy's eyes were fixed on his in mute curiousity; and although the

recognition was only for an instant--for the briefest space of

time that can possibly be conceived--it was enough to show the

old man that he had been observed.

He closed the lid of the box with a loud crash; and, laying his

hand on a bread knife which was on the table, started furiously

up. He trembled very much though; for, even in his terror,

Oliver could see that the knife quivered in the air.

'What's that?' said the Jew. 'What do you watch me for? Why are

you awake? What have you seen? Speak out, boy! Quick--quick!

for your life.

'I wasn't able to sleep any longer, sir,' replied Oliver, meekly.

'I am very sorry if I have disturbed you, sir.'

'You were not awake an hour ago?' said the Jew, scowling fiercely

on the boy.

'No! No, indeed!' replied Oliver.

'Are you sure?' cried the Jew: with a still fiercer look than

before: and a threatening attitude.

'Upon my word I was not, sir,' replied Oliver, earnestly. 'I was

not, indeed, sir.'

'Tush, tush, my dear!' said the Jew, abruptly resuming his old

manner, and playing with the knife a little, before he laid it

down; as if to induce the belief that he had caught it up, in

mere sport. 'Of course I know that, my dear. I only tried to

frighten you. You're a brave boy. Ha! ha! you're a brave boy,

Oliver.' The Jew rubbed his hands with a chuckle, but glanced

uneasily at the box, notwithstanding.

'Did you see any of these pretty things, my dear?' said the Jew,

laying his hand upon it after a short pause.

'Yes, sir,' replied Oliver.

'Ah!' said the Jew, turning rather pale. 'They--they're mine,

Oliver; my little property. All I have to live upon, in my old

age. The folks call me a miser, my dear. Only a miser; that's

all.'

Oliver thought the old gentleman must be a decided miser to live

in such a dirty place, with so many watches; but, thinking that

perhaps his fondness for the Dodger and the other boys, cost him

a good deal of money, he only cast a deferential look at the Jew,

and asked if he might get up.

'Certainly, my dear, certainly,' replied the old gentleman.

'Stay. There's a pitcher of water in the corner by the door.

Bring it here; and I'll give you a basin to wash in, my dear.'

Oliver got up; walked across the room; and stooped for an instant

to raise the pitcher. When he turned his head, the box was gone.

He had scarcely washed himself, and made everything tidy, by

emptying the basin out of the window, agreeably to the Jew's

directions, when the Dodger returned: accompanied by a very

sprightly young friend, whom Oliver had seen smoking on the

previous night, and who was now formally introduced to him as

Charley Bates. The four sat down, to breakfast, on the coffee,

and some hot rolls and ham which the Dodger had brought home in

the crown of his hat.

'Well,' said the Jew, glancing slyly at Oliver, and addressing

himself to the Dodger, 'I hope you've been at work this morning,

my dears?'

'Hard,' replied the Dodger.

'As nails,' added Charley Bates.

'Good boys, good boys!' said the Jew. 'What have you got,

Dodger?'

'A couple of pocket-books,' replied that young gentlman.

'Lined?' inquired the Jew, with eagerness.

'Pretty well,' replied the Dodger, producing two pocket-books;

one green, and the other red.

'Not so heavy as they might be,' said the Jew, after looking at

the insides carefully; 'but very neat and nicely made. Ingenious

workman, ain't he, Oliver?'

'Very indeed, sir,' said Oliver. At which Mr. Charles Bates

laughed uproariously; very much to the amazement of Oliver, who

saw nothing to laugh at, in anything that had passed.

'And what have you got, my dear?' said Fagin to Charley Bates.

'Wipes,' replied Master Bates; at the same time producing four

pocket-handkerchiefs.

'Well,' said the Jew, inspecting them closely; 'they're very good

ones, very. You haven't marked them well, though, Charley; so

the marks shall be picked out with a needle, and we'll teach

Oliver how to do it. Shall us, Oliver, eh? Ha! ha! ha!'

'If you please, sir,' said Oliver.

'You'd like to be able to make pocket-handkerchiefs as easy as

Charley Bates, wouldn't you, my dear?' said the Jew.

'Very much, indeed, if you'll teach me, sir,' replied Oliver.

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.

'He is so jolly green!' said Charley when he recovered, as an

apology to the company for his unpolite behaviour.

The Dodger said nothing, but he smoothed Oliver's hair over his

eyes, and said he'd know better, by and by; upon which the old

gentleman, observing Oliver's colour mounting, changed the

subject by asking whether there had been much of a crowd at the

execution that morning? This made him wonder more and more; for

it was plain from the replies of the two boys that they had both

been there; and Oliver naturally wondered how they could possibly

have found time to be so very industrious.

When the breakfast was cleared away; the merry old gentlman and

the two boys played at a very curious and uncommon game, which

was performed in this way. The merry old gentleman, placing a

snuff-box in one pocket of his trousers, a note-case in the

other, and a watch in his waistcoat pocket, with a guard-chain

round his neck, and sticking a mock diamond pin in his shirt:

buttoned his coat tight round him, and putting his spectacle-case

and handkerchief in his pockets, trotted up and down the room

with a stick, in imitation of the manner in which old gentlmen

walk about the streets any hour in the day. Sometimes he stopped

at the fire-place, and sometimes at the door, making believe that

he was staring with all his might into shop-windows. At such

times, he would look constantly round him, for fear of thieves,

and would keep slapping all his pockets in turn, to see that he

hadn't lost anything, in such a very funny and natural manner,

that Oliver laughed till the tears ran down his face. All this

time, the two boys followed him closely about: getting out of

his sight, so nimbly, every time he turned round, that it was

impossible to follow their motions. At last, the Dodger trod

upon his toes, or ran upon his boot accidently, while Charley

Bates stumbled up against him behind; and in that one moment they

took from him, with the most extraordinary rapidity, snuff-box,

note-case, watch-guard, chain, shirt-pin, pocket-handkerchief,

even the spectacle-case. If the old gentlman felt a hand in any

one of his pockets, he cried out where it was; and then the game

began all over again.

When this game had been played a great many times, a couple of

young ladies called to see the young gentleman; one of whom was

named Bet, and the other Nancy. They wore a good deal of hair,

not very neatly turned up behind, and were rather untidy about

the shoes and stockings. They were not exactly pretty, perhaps;

but they had a great deal of colour in their faces, and looked

quite stout and hearty. Being remarkably free and agreeable in

their manners, Oliver thought them very nice girls indeed. As

there is no doubt they were.

The visitors stopped a long time. Spirits were produced, in

consequence of one of the young ladies complaining of a coldness

in her inside; and the conversation took a very convivial and

improving turn. At length, Charley Bates expressed his opinion

that it was time to pad the hoof. This, it occurred to Oliver,

must be French for going out; for directly afterwards, the

Dodger, and Charley, and the two young ladies, went away

together, having been kindly furnished by the amiable old Jew

with money to spend.

'There, my dear,' said Fagin. 'That's a pleasant life, isn't it?

They have gone out for the day.'

'Have they done work, sir?' inquired Oliver.

'Yes,' said the Jew; 'that is, unless they should unexpectedly

come across any, when they are out; and they won't neglect it, if

they do, my dear, depend upon it. Make 'em your models, my dear.

Make 'em your models,' tapping the fire-shovel on the hearth to

add force to his words; 'do everything they bid you, and take

their advice in all matters--especially the Dodger's, my dear.

He'll be a great man himself, and will make you one too, if you

take pattern by him.--Is my handkerchief hanging out of my

pocket, my dear?' said the Jew, stopping short.

'Yes, sir,' said Oliver.

'See if you can take it out, without my feeling it; as you saw

them do, when we were at play this morning.'

Oliver held up the bottom of the pocket with one hand, as he had

seen the Dodger hold it, and drew the handkerchief lighty out of

it with the other.

'Is it gone?' cried the Jew.

'Here it is, sir,' said Oliver, showing it in his hand.

'You're a clever boy, my dear,' said the playful old gentleman,

patting Oliver on the head approvingly. 'I never saw a sharper

lad. Here's a shilling for you. If you go on, in this way,

you'll be the greatest man of the time. And now come here, and

I'll show you how to take the marks out of the handkerchiefs.'

Oliver wondered what picking the old gentleman's pocket in play,

had to do with his chances of being a great man. But, thinking

that the Jew, being so much his senior, must know best, he

followed him quietly to the table, and was soon deeply involved

in his new study.
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