A Brave and Honest Boy, Oliver Twist Page #2

"A Brave and Honest Boy, Oliver Twist" is a retelling of Charles Dickens' classic tale, "Oliver Twist," which follows the journey of a young orphan boy named Oliver. Born into a life of poverty and hardship in a workhouse, Oliver escapes to seek a better life in London. Along the way, he encounters a colorful cast of characters, including kind-hearted souls and criminal elements, as he grapples with issues of morality, identity, and the search for belonging. Through his courage and innocence, Oliver's story highlights the struggles of the underprivileged and the resilience of the human spirit in the face of adversity. This adaptation emphasizes themes of bravery, honesty, and the quest for love and acceptance.

• Children

								

and the man in the white waistcoat said: "The boy is a fool. I thought
he was." After other ugly remarks, they told Oliver he was an orphan
and they had supported him all his life. He ought to be very thankful.
(And he was, when he remembered how many had been starved to death.)
"Now," they said, "you are nine years old, and we must put you out to
learn a trade." They told him he should begin the next morning at six
o'clock to pick oakum, and work at that until they could get him a
place.

Oliver was faithful at his work, in which several other boys assisted,
but oh! so hungry they got, for they were given but one little bowl of
gruel at a meal--hardly enough for a kitten. So one day the boys said
they must ask for more; and they "drew straws" to see who should venture
to do so. It fell to Oliver's lot to do it, and the next meal, when they
had emptied their bowls, Oliver walked up to the man who helped them and
said very politely, "Please, sir, may I not have some more? I am very
hungry." This made the man so angry that he hit Oliver over the head
with his ladle and called for Mr. Bumble. He came, and when told that
Oliver had "asked for more," he grabbed him by the collar and took him
before the Board and made the complaint that he had been very naughty
and rebellious, telling the circumstance in an unfair and untruthful
way. The Board was angry at Oliver, and the man in the white waistcoat
told them again as he had said before. "This boy will be hung sometime.
We must get rid of him at once." So they offered five pounds, or
twenty-five dollars to anyone who would take him.

The first man who came was a very mean chimney-sweeper, who had almost
killed other boys with his vile treatment. The Board agreed to let him
have Oliver; but, when they took him before the magistrates, Oliver fell
on his knees and begged them not to let that man have him, and they
would not. So Oliver was taken back to the workhouse.

The next man who came was Mr. Sowerberry, an undertaker. He was a very
good man, and the magistrates let him take Oliver along. But he had a
very cross, stingy wife, and a mean servant-girl by the name of
Charlotte, and a big overbearing boy by the name of Noah Claypole, whom
he had taken to raise. Oliver thought he would like Mr. Sowerberry well
enough, but his heart fell when "the Mrs." met him and called him "boy"
and a "measly-looking little pauper," and gave him for supper the scraps
she had put for the dog. But this was so much better than he got at the
workhouse, he would not complain about the food; and he hoped, by
faithful work, to win kind treatment.

They made him sleep by himself in the shop among the coffins, and he was
very much frightened; but he would rather sleep there than with the
terrible boy, Noah. The first night he dreamed of his beautiful mother,
and thought again he could see her sitting among those black, fearful
coffins, with the same sweet smile upon her face. He was awakened the
next morning by Noah, who told him he had to obey him, and he'd better
lookout or he'd wear the life out of him. Noah kicked and cuffed Oliver
several times, but the poor boy was too much used to that to resent it,
and determined to do his work well.

Mr. Sowerberry found Oliver so good, sensible, and polite that he made
him his assistant and took him to all the funerals, and occasionally
gave him a penny. Oliver went into fine houses and saw people and sights
he had never dreamed of before. Mr. Sowerberry had told him he might
some day be an undertaker himself; and Oliver worked hard to please his
master, though Noah and Mrs. Sowerberry and Charlotte grew more unkind
to him all the time, because "he was put forward," they said, "and Noah
was kept back." This, of course, made Noah meaner than ever to
Oliver--determined to endure it all rather than complain, and try to
win them over after while by being kind. He could have borne any insult
to himself, but Noah tried the little fellow too far when he attacked
the name of Oliver's mother, and it brought serious trouble, as we shall
see.

One day, Oliver and Noah had descended into the kitchen at the usual
dinner-hour, when, Charlotte being called out of the way, there came a
few minutes of time, which Noah Claypole, being hungry and vicious,
considered he could not possibly devote to a worthier purpose than
aggravating and tantalizing young Oliver Twist.

Intent upon this innocent amusement, Noah put his feet on the
tablecloth; and pulled Oliver's hair; and twitched his ears; and
expressed his opinion that he was a "sneak;" and furthermore announced
his intention of coming to see him hanged, whenever that desirable event
should take place; and entered upon various other topics of petty
annoyance, like a malicious and ill-conditioned charity-boy as he was.
But, none of these taunts producing the desired effect of making Oliver
cry, Noah began to talk about his mother.

"Work'us," said Noah, "how's your mother?" Noah had given Oliver this
name because he had come from the workhouse.

"She's dead," replied Oliver; "don't you say anything about her to me!"

Oliver's color rose as he said this; he breathed quickly; and there was
a curious working of the mouth and nostrils, which Noah thought must be
the immediate precursor of a violent fit of crying. Under this
impression he returned to the charge.

"What did she die of, Work'us?" said Noah.

"Of a broken-heart, some of our old nurses told me," replied Oliver:
more as if he were talking to himself than answering Noah. "I think I
know what it must be to die of that!"

"Tol de rol lol lol, right fol lairy, Work'us," said Noah, as a tear
rolled down Oliver's check. "What's set you a sniveling now?"

"Not you," replied Oliver, hastily brushing the tear away. "Don't
think it."

"Oh, not me, eh?" sneered Noah.

"No, not you," replied Oliver, sharply.

"There, that's enough. Don't say anything more to me about her; you'd
better not!"

"Better not!" exclaimed Noah. "Well! Better not! Work'us, don't be
impudent. Your mother, too! She was a nice 'un, she was. Oh, Lor'!"
And here Noah nodded his head expressively and curled his small red
nose.

"Yer know, Work'us," continued Noah, emboldened by Oliver's silence, and
speaking in a jeering tone of affected pity. "Yer know, Work'us, it
can't be helped now; and of course yer couldn't help it then. But yer
must know, Work'us, yer mother was a regular-down bad 'un."

"What did you say?" inquired Oliver, looking up very quickly.

"A regular right-down bad'un, Work'us," replied Noah, coolly. "And it's
a great deal better, Work'us, that she died when she did, or else she'd
have been hard laboring in the jail, or sent out of the country, or
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes