Oliver Twist | Page 7

the boys took their places. The master, in his cook's uniform,
stationed himself at the copper; his pauper assistants ranged themselves behind him; the
gruel was served out; and a long grace was said over the short commons. The gruel
disappeared; the boys whispered each other, and winked at Oliver; while his next
neighbors nudged him. Child as he was, he was desperate with hunger, and reckless with
misery. He rose from the table; and advancing to the master, basin and spoon in hand,
said: somewhat alarmed at his own temerity:
'Please, sir, I want some more.'
The master was a fat, healthy man; but he turned very pale. He gazed in stupefied
astonishment on the small rebel for some seconds, and then clung for support to the
copper. The assistants were paralysed with wonder; the boys with fear.
'What!' said the master at length, in a faint voice.
'Please, sir,' replied Oliver, 'I want some more.'
The master aimed a blow at Oliver's head with the ladle; pinioned him in his arm; and
shrieked aloud for the beadle.
The board were sitting in solemn conclave, when Mr. Bumble rushed into the room in
great excitement, and addressing the gentleman in the high chair, said,
'Mr. Limbkins, I beg your pardon, sir! Oliver Twist has asked for more!'
There was a general start. Horror was depicted on every countenance.
'For more!' said Mr. Limbkins. 'Compose yourself, Bumble, and answer me distinctly. Do
I understand that he asked for more, after he had eaten the supper allotted by the dietary?'
'He did, sir,' replied Bumble.
'That boy will be hung,' said the gentleman in the white waistcoat. 'I know that boy will
be hung.'
Nobody controverted the prophetic gentleman's opinion. An animated discussion took
place. Oliver was ordered into instant confinement; and a bill was next morning pasted on
the outside of the gate, offering a reward of five pounds to anybody who would take
Oliver Twist off the hands of the parish. In other words, five pounds and Oliver Twist
were offered to any man or woman who wanted an apprentice to any trade, business, or
calling.
'I never was more convinced of anything in my life,' said the gentleman in the white
waistcoat, as he knocked at the gate and read the bill next morning: 'I never was more
convinced of anything in my life, than I am that that boy will come to be hung.'
As I purpose to show in the sequel whether the white waistcoated gentleman was right or

not, I should perhaps mar the interest of this narrative (supposing it to possess any at all),
if I ventured to hint just yet, whether the life of Oliver Twist had this violent termination
or no.



CHAPTER III
RELATES HOW OLIVER TWIST WAS VERY NEAR GETTING A PLACE WHICH
WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN A SINECURE
For a week after the commission of the impious and profane offence of asking for more,
Oliver remained a close prisoner in the dark and solitary room to which he had been
consigned by the wisdom and mercy of the board. It appears, at first sight not
unreasonable to suppose, that, if he had entertained a becoming feeling of respect for the
prediction of the gentleman in the white waistcoat, he would have established that sage
individual's prophetic character, once and for ever, by tying one end of his
pocket-handkerchief to a hook in the wall, and attaching himself to the other. To the
performance of this feat, however, there was one obstacle: namely, that
pocket-handkerchiefs being decided articles of luxury, had been, for all future times and
ages, removed from the noses of paupers by the express order of the board, in council
assembled: solemnly given and pronounced under their hands and seals. There was a still
greater obstacle in Oliver's youth and childishness. He only cried bitterly all day; and,
when the long, dismal night came on, spread his little hands before his eyes to shut out
the darkness, and crouching in the corner, tried to sleep: ever and anon waking with a
start and tremble, and drawing himself closer and closer to the wall, as if to feel even its
cold hard surface were a protection in the gloom and loneliness which surrounded him.
Let it not be supposed by the enemies of 'the system,' that, during the period of his
solitary incarceration, Oliver was denied the benefit of exercise, the pleasure of society,
or the advantages of religious consolation. As for exercise, it was nice cold weather, and
he was allowed to perform his ablutions every morning under the pump, in a stone yard,
in the presence of Mr. Bumble, who prevented his catching cold, and caused a tingling
sensation to pervade his frame, by repeated