oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第4章
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Bumble；” replied Mrs。 Mann； as she opened a corner cupboard；
and took down a bottle and glass。 “It’s gin。 I’ll not deceive you； Mr。
B。 It’s gin。”
“Do you give the children Daffy； Mrs。 Mann？” inquired
Bumble； following with his eyes the interesting process of mixing。
“Ah； bless ’em that I do； dear as it is；” replied the nurse。 “I
couldn’t see ’em suffer before my very eyes； you know； sir。”
“No；” said Mr。 Bumble approvingly； “no； you could not。 You are
a humane woman； Mrs。 Mann。” （Here she set down the glass。） “I
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Oliver Twist
shall take an early opportunity of mentioning it to the Board； Mrs。
Mann。” （He drew it towards him。） “You feel as a mother； Mrs。
Mann。” （He stirred the gin…and…water。） “I—I drink your health
with cheerfulness； Mrs。 Mann；” and he swallowed half of it。
“And now about business；” said the beadle； taking out a
leathern pocket…book。 “The child that was half…baptised； Oliver
Twist； is nine year old today。”
“Bless him！” interposed Mrs。 Mann； inflaming her left eye with
the corner of her apron。
“And notwithstanding a offered reward of ten pound； which
was afterwards increased to twenty pound。 Notwithstanding the
most superlative； and； I may say； supernat’ral exertions on the
part of this parish；” said Bumble； awe have never been able to
discover who is his father； or what was his mother’s settlement；
name； or condition。”
Mrs。 Mann raised her hands in astonishment； but added； after a
moment’s reflection； “How comes he to have any name at all；
then？”
The beadle drew himself up with great pride； and said； “I
inwented it。”
“You； Mr。 Bumble！”
“I； Mrs。 Mann。 We name our fondlings in alphabetical order。
The last was a S—Swubble； I named him。 This was T—Twist； I
named him。 The next one as comes will be Unwin； and the next
Vilkins。 I have got names ready…made to the end of the alphabet；
and all the way through it again； when we come to Z。”
“Why； you’re quite a literary character； sir！” said Mrs。 Mann。
“Well； well；” said the beadle； evidently gratified with the
compliment； “perhaps I may be。 Perhaps I may be； Mrs。 Mann。”
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Oliver Twist
He finished the gin…and…water； and added； “Oliver being now too
old to remain here； the Board have determined to have him back
into the house。 I have come out myself to take him there。 So let me
see him at once。”
“I’ll fetch him directly；” said Mrs。 Mann； leaving the room for
that purpose。 Oliver； having had by this time as much of the outer
coat of dirt which incrusted his face and hands removed； as could
be scrubbed off in one washing； was led into the room by his
benevolent protectress。
“Make a bow to the gentleman； Oliver；” said Mrs。 Mann。
Oliver made a bow； which was divided between the beadle on
the chair； and the cocked hat on the table。
“Will you go along with me； Oliver？” said Mr。 Bumble； in a
majestic voice。
Oliver was about to say that he would go along with anybody
with great readiness； when； glancing upwards； he caught sight of
Mrs。 Mann； who had got behind the beadle’s chair； and was
shaking her fist at him with a furious countenance。 He took the
hint at once； for the fist had been too often impressed upon his
body not to be deeply impressed upon his recollection。
“Will she go with me？” inquired poor Oliver。
“No； she can’t；” replied Mr。 Bumble； “but she’ll come and see
you sometimes。”
This was no very great consolation to the child。 Young as he
was； however； he had sense enough to make a feint of feeling great
regret at going away。 It was no very difficult matter for the boy to
call the tears into his eyes。 Hunger and recent ill…usage are great
assistants if you want to cry； and Oliver cried very naturally
indeed。 Mrs。 Mann gave him a thousand embraces； and； what
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Oliver Twist
Oliver wanted a great deal more； a piece of bread…and…butter； lest
he should seem too hungry when he got to the workhouse。 With
the slice of bread in his hand； and the little brown cloth parish cap
on his head； Oliver was then led away by Mr。 Bumble from the
wretched home where one kind word or look had never lighted the
gloom of his infant years。 And yet he burst into an agony of
childish grief； as the cottage gate closed after him。 Wretched as
were the little companions in misery he was leaving behind； they
were the only friends he had ever known； and a sense of his
loneliness in the great wide world； sank into the child’s heart for
the first time。
Mr。 Bumble walked on with long strides； little Oliver； firmly
grasping his gold…laced cuff； trotted beside him； inquiring at the
end of every quarter of a mile whether they were “nearly there。”
To these interrogations Mr。 Bumble returned very brief and
snappish replies； for the temporary blandness which gin…andwater awakens in some bosoms had by this time evaporated； and
he was once again a beadle。
Oliver had not been within the walls of the workhouse a quarter
of an hour； and had scarcely completed the demolition of a second
slice of bread； when Mr。 Bumble； who had handed him over to the
care of an old woman； returned； and； telling him it was a Board
night； informed him that the Board had said he was to appear
before it forthwith。
Not having a very clearly defined notion of what a live Board
was； Oliver was rather astounded by this intelligence； and was not
quite certain whether he ought to laugh or cry。 He had no time to
think about the matter； however； for Mr。 Bumble gave him a tap
on the head with his cane； to wake him up； and another on the
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
Oliver Twist
back to make him lively； and bidding him follow； conducted him
into a large； whitewashed room； where eight or ten fat gentlemen
were sitting round a table。 At the top of the table； seated in an
arm…chair rather higher than the rest； was a particularly fat
gentleman with a very round； red face。
“Bow to the Board；” said Bumble。 Oliver brushed away two or
three tears that were lingering in his eyes； and seeing no board
but the table； fortunately bowed to that。
“What’s your name； boy？” said the gentleman in the high chair。
Oliver was frightened at the sight of so many gentlemen； which
made him tremble； and the beadle gave him another tap behind；
which made him cry。 These two causes made him answer in a very
low and hesitating voice； whereupon a gentleman in a white
waistcoat said he was a fool。 Which was a capital way of raising his
spirits； and putting him quite at his ease。
“Boy；” said the gentleman in the high chair； “listen to me。 You
know you’re an orphan； I suppose？”
“What’s that； sir？” inquired poor Oliver。
“The boy is a fool—I thought he was；” said the gentleman in the
white waistcoat。
“Hush！” said the gentleman who had spoken first。 “You know
you’ve got no father or mother； and that you were brought up by
the parish； don’t you？”
“Yes； sir；” replied Oliver； weeping bitterly。
“What are you crying for？” inquired the gentleman in the white
waistcoat。 And to be sure it was very extraordinary。 What could
the boy be crying for？
“I hope you say your prayers every night；” said another
gentleman in a gruff voice； “and pray for the people who feed you；
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
Oliver Twist
and take care of you—like a Christian。”
“Yes； sir；” stammered the boy。 The gentleman who spoke last
was unconsciously right。 It would have been very like a Christian；
and a marvellously good Christian； too； if Oliver had prayed for the
people who fed and took care of him。 But he hadn’t； because
nobody had taught him。
“Well！ You have come here to be educated； and taught a useful
trade；” said the red…faced gentleman in the high chair。
“So you’ll begin to pick oakum tomorrow morning at six
o’clock；” added the surly one in the white waistcoat。
For the combination of both these blessings in th
