A Brave and Honest Boy, Oliver Twist Page #6

"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

								

stuck in a ginger-beer bottle, two or three pewter-pots, a loaf and
butter, and a plate. Seated round the table were four or five boys,
none older than the Dodger, smoking clay pipes and drinking spirits,
with the air of middle-aged men. These all crowded about their friend as
he whispered a few words to the Jewish proprietor; and then turned round
and grinned at Oliver. So did the Jew himself, toasting-fork in hand.

"This is him, Fagin," said Jack Dawkins; "my friend, Oliver Twist."

The Jew grinned, and, making a low bow to Oliver, took him by the hand,
and hoped he should have the honor of a closer acquaintance. Upon this,
the young gentlemen with the pipes came round him and shook both his
hands very hard.

"We are very glad to see you. Oliver, very," said the Jew. "Dodger, take
off the sausages, and draw a tub near the fire for Oliver. Ah! you're
a-staring at the pocket-handkerchiefs! eh, my dear! There are a good
many of 'em, ain't there? We've just looked 'em out, ready for the wash:
that's all, Oliver--that's all. Ha! ha! ha!"

The latter part of this speech was hailed by a noisy shout from all the
pupils of the merry old gentleman; in the midst of which they went to
supper.

Oliver ate his share, and the Jew then mixed him a glass of hot gin and
water, telling him he must drink it off directly, because another
gentleman wanted the tumbler. Oliver did as he was desired. Immediately
afterward he felt himself gently lifted on to one of the sacks; and then
he sunk into a deep sleep.

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

Although Oliver had roused himself from sleep, he was not thoroughly
awake.

Oliver was precisely in this condition. He saw the Jew with his
half-closed eyes; heard his low whistling; and recognized the sound of
the spoon grating against the saucepan's sides.

When the coffee was done, the Jew drew the saucepan to the hob, looked
at Oliver, and called him by his name. He did not answer, and was to all
appearance asleep.

After satisfying 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! Stanch to the
last! Never told the old parson where they were. Never peached 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 remarks of the like nature, the Jew once
more laid the watch in its place of safety. At least half a dozen more
were severally drawn forth from the same box, and looked at with equal
pleasure; besides rings, bracelets, and other articles of jewelry, of
such magnificent materials, and costly workmanship, that Oliver had no
idea even of their names.

As the Jew looked up, his bright dark eyes, which had been staring at
the jewelry, fell on Oliver's face; the boy's eyes were fixed on his in
mute curiosity; and although the recognition was only for an instant, 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.

"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.

"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.

"Tush, tush, my dear!" said the Jew, abruptly resuming his old manner,
and playing with the knife a little, before he laid it down; to make
Oliver think 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 looked kindly at the Jew, and asked if he might get up.

"Certainly, my dear, certainly," replied the old gentleman. "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, Dodger?"

"A couple of pocket-books," replied that young gentleman.

"Lined?" inquired the Jew, with eagerness.

"Pretty well," replied the Dodger, producing two pocket-books.

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