A Brave and Honest Boy, Oliver Twist Page #7

"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

								

insides carefully; "but very neat and nicely made. A good 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 burst into another laugh.

"He is so jolly green!" said Charley when he recovered, as an apology to
the company for his impolite behavior.

The Dodger said nothing, but he smoothed Oliver's hair over his eyes,
and said he'd know better by-and-by.

When the breakfast was cleared away, the merry old gentleman 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 around 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 gentlemen
walk about the streets any hour in the day.

Now during 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 accidentally, 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
gentleman 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, 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
afterward, the Dodger and Charley 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 lightly out 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 handkerchief."

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 older must know best, he followed him quietly to the
table, and was soon deeply at work in his new study.

For many days Oliver remained in the Jew's room, picking the marks out
of the pocket-handkerchiefs (of which a great number were brought home),
and sometimes taking part in the game already described, which the two
boys and the Jew played, regularly, every morning.

At length, one morning, Oliver obtained the permission to go out with
the boys. There had been no handkerchiefs to work upon for two or three
days, and the dinners had been rather meager. Perhaps these were reasons
for the old gentleman giving his assent; but, whether they were or no,
he told Oliver he might go, and placed him under the joint care of
Charley Bates and his friend, the Dodger.

The three boys started out; the Dodger with his coat-sleeves tucked up
and his hat cocked, as usual; Master Bates sauntering along with his
hands in his pockets; and Oliver between them, wondering where they were
going, and what they would teach him to make first.

They were just coming from a narrow court not far from an open square,
which is yet called "The Green," when the Dodger made a sudden stop,
and, laying his finger on his lip, drew his companions back again, with
the greatest caution.

"What's the matter?" demanded Oliver.

"Hush!" replied the Dodger. "Do you see that old cove at the
book-stall?"

"The old gentleman over the way?" said Oliver. "Yes, I see him."

"He'll do," said the Dodger.

"A prime plant," observed Master Charley Bates.

Oliver looked from one to the other with the greatest surprise, but he
was not permitted to make any inquiries; for the two boys walked
stealthily across the road and slunk close behind the old gentleman.
Oliver walked a few paces after them, and, not knowing whether to
advance or retire, stood looking on in silent amazement.

The old gentleman was a very respectable-looking personage, with a
powdered head and gold spectacles, as he stood reading a book; and what
was Oliver's horror and alarm as he stood a few paces off, looking on
with his eyelids as wide open as they would possibly go, to see the
Dodger plunge his hand into the old gentleman's pocket and draw from
thence a handkerchief! To see him hand the same to Charley Bates; and
finally to behold them both running away round the corner.

In an instant the whole mystery of the handkerchiefs, and the watches,
and the jewels, and the Jew, rushed upon the boy's mind. He stood, for a
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