oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第17章
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idle young dog； and didn’t deserve anything； and the coach rattled
away and left only a cloud of dust behind。
In some villages； large painted boards were fixed up warning all
persons who begged within the district； that they would be sent to
jail。 This frightened Oliver very much； and made him glad to get
out of those villages with all possible expedition。 In others； he
would stand about the inn…yards； and look mournfully at every one
who passed； a proceeding which generally terminated in the
landlady’s ordering one of the post…boys who were lounging about；
to drive that strange boy out of the place； for she was sure he had
come to steal something。 If he begged at a farmer’s house； ten to
one but they threatened to set the dog on him； and when he
showed his nose in a shop； they talked about the beadle—which
brought Oliver’s heart into his mouth—very often the only thing
he had there； for many hours together。
In fact； if it had not been for a good…hearted turnpike…man and a
benevolent old lady； Oliver’s troubles would have been shortened
by the very same process which had put an end to his mother’s； in
other words； he would most assuredly have fallen dead upon the
king’s pathway。 But the turnpike…man gave him a meal of bread
and cheese； and the ‘old lady； who had a shipwrecked grandson
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Oliver Twist
wandering barefoot in some distant part of the earth； took pity
upon the poor orphan and gave him what little she could afford—
and more—with such kind and gentle words； and such tears of
sympathy and compassion； that they sank deeper into Oliver’s
soul； than all the sufferings he had ever undergone。
Early on the seventh morning； after he had left his native place；
Oliver limped slowly into the little town of Barnet。 The window
shutters were closed； the street was empty； not a soul had
awakened to the business of the day。 The sun was rising in all its
splendid beauty； but the light only served to show the boy his own
lonesomeness and desolation； as he sat with bleeding feet and
covered with dust； upon a doorstep。
By degrees； the shutters were opened； the window…blinds were
drawn up； and people began passing to and fro。 Some few stopped
to gaze at Oliver for a moment or two； or turned round to stare at
him as they hurried by； but none relieved him； or troubled
themselves to inquire how he came there。 He had no heart to beg。
And there he sat。
He had been crouching on the step for some time； wondering at
the great number of public houses （every other house in Barnet
was a tavern； large or small）； gazing listlessly at the coaches as
they passed trough； and thinking how strange it seemed that they
could do； with ease； in a few hours； what it had taken him a whole
week of courage and determination beyond his years to
accomplish； when he was roused by observing that a boy； who had
passed him carelessly some minutes before； had returned； and was
now surveying him most earnestly from the opposite side of the
way。 He took little heed of this at first； but the boy remained in the
same attitude of close observation so long； that Oliver raised his
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Oliver Twist
head； and returned his steady look。 Upon this； the boy crossed
over； and； walking close up to Oliver； said：
“Hollo； my covey！ What’s the row？”
The boy who addressed this inquiry to the young wayfarer； was
about his own age； but one of the queerest…looking boys that
Oliver had ever seen。 He was a snub…nosed； flat…browed； common…
faced boy enough； and as dirty a juvenile as one would wish to see；
but he had about him all the airs and manners of a man。 He was
short for his age； with rather bow…legs； and little； sharp； ugly eyes。
His hat was stuck on the top of his head so lightly； that it
threatened to fall off every moment—and would have done so；
very often； if the wearer had not had a knack of every now and
then ；giving his head a sudden twitch； which brought it back to its
old place again。 He wore a man’s coat； which reached nearly to his
heels。 He had turned the cuffs back； half…way up his arm； to get his
hands out of the sleeves； apparently with the ultimate view of
thrusting them into the pockets of his corduroy trousers； for there
he kept them。 He was； altogether； as roystering and swaggering a
young gentleman as ever stood four feet six； or something less； in
his bluchers。
“Hollo； my covey！ What’s the row？” said this strange young
gentleman to Oliver。
“I am very hungry and tired；” replied Oliver； the tears standing
in his eyes as he spoke。 “I have walked a long way。 I have been
walking these seven days。”
“Walking for sivin days！” said the young gentleman。 “Oh； I see。
Beak’s order； eh？ But；” he added； noticing Oliver’s look of
surprise； “I suppose you don’t know what a beak is； my flash compan…i…on。”
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Oliver Twist
Oliver mildly replied； that he had always heard a bird’s mouth
described by the term in question。
“My eyes； how green！” exclaimed the young gentleman。 “Why；
a beak’s a madgst’rate； and when you walk by beak’s order； it’s not
straight forerd； but always a…going up； and nivir a…coming down
agin。 Was you never on the mill？”
“What mill？” inquired Oliver。
“What mill！ Why； the mill—the mill as takes up so little room
that it’ll work inside a stone jug； and always goes better when the
wind’s low with people； than when it’s high； a…cos then they can’t
get workmen。 But come；” said the young gentleman； “you want
grub； and you shall have it。 I’m at low…water mark myself—only
one bob and a magpie； but； as far as it goes； I’ll fork out and
stump。 Up with you on your pins。 There！ Now then！ Morrice！”
Assisting Oliver to rise； the young gentleman took him to an
adjacent chandler’s shop； where he purchased a sufficiency of
ready…dressed ham and a half…quartern loaf； or； as he himself
expressed it； “a fourpenny bran；” the ham being kept clean and
preserved from dust； by the ingenious expedience of making a
hole in the loaf by pulling out a portion of the crumb； and stuffing
it therein。 Taking the bread under his arm； the young gentleman
turned into a small public…house； and led the way to a tap…room in
the rear of the premises。 Here； a pot of beer was brought in； by
direction of the mysterious youth； and Oliver； falling to； at his new
friend’s bidding； made a long and hearty meal； during the progress
of which； the strange boy eyed him from time to time with great
attention。
“Going to London？” said the strange boy； when Oliver had at
length concluded。
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Oliver Twist
“Yes。”
“Got any lodgings？”
“No。”
“Money？”
“No。”
The strange boy whistled； and put his arms into his pockets； as
far as the big coat sleeves would let them go。
“Do you live in London？” inquired Oliver。
“Yes。 I do； when I’m at home；” replied the boy。 “I suppose you
want some place to sleep in tonight； don’t you？”
“I do； indeed；” answered Oliver。 “I have not slept under a roof
since I left the country。”
“Don’t fret your eyelids on that score；” said the young
gentleman。 “I’ve got to be in London tonight； and I know a
’spectable old gentleman as lives there； wot’ll give you lodgings for
nothink； and never ask for the change—that is； if any gentleman
he knows interduces you。 And don’t he know me？ Oh； no！ Not in
the least！ By no means。 Certainly not！” The young gentleman
smiled； as if to intimate that the latter fragments of discourse were
playfully ironical； and finished the beer as he did so。
This unexpected offer of shelter was too tempting to be
resisted； especially as it was immediately followed up； by the
assurance that the old gentleman referred to； would doubtless
provide Oliver with a comfortable place； without loss of time This
led to a more friendly and confidential dialogue； from which Oliver
discovered that his friend’s name was Jack Dawkins； and that
