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Oliver Twist - 400dpi

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Demo gyűjtemény, Internet Archive
knv_000028/0152
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Stranica 153 [153]
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109 and beholding a light shining through the glass-window of the little parlour at the back of the shop, he made bold to peep in and see what was going forward; and, when he saw what was going forward, he was not a little surprised. The cloth was laid for supper, and the table was strewed with bread and butter, plates and glasses, a pewter-pot, and a wine-bottle. At the upper end of the table Mr. Noah Claypole lolled negligently in an easy-chair with his legs thrown over one of the arms, an open clasp-knife in one hand, and a mass of buttered bread in the ether; close beside him stood Charlotte, opening oysters from a barrel, which Mr. Claypole condescended to swallow with remarkable avidity.. A more than ordinary redness in the region of the young gentleman’s nose, and a kind of fixed wink, in his right eye, denoted that he was in a slight degree intoxicated ; and these symptoms were confirmed by the intense relish with which he took his oysters, for which nothing but a strong appreciation of their cooling properties in cases of internal fever could have sufficiently accounted. | s Here’sa delicious fat one, Noah dear!” said Charlotte; “try him, do; only this “ What a delicious thing is a oyster !” remarked Mr. Claypole after he had swallowed it. “ What a pity it is a number of "em should ever make you feel uncomfortable, isn’t it, Charlotte ?” “ It’s quite a cruelty,” said Charlotte. “So it is," acquiesced Mr. Claypole. * Ain't yer fond of oysters?” » s Not over-much,” replied Charlotte. “T like to see you eat "em, Noah dear, better than eating them myself.” “ Lor’! said Noah refiectively ; how queer !” “ Have another?’ said Charlotte. “ Here’s one with such a beautiful, delicate beard !” | “T can’t manage any more,” said Noah. “T’m very sorry. Come here, Charlotte, and I — yer.” c What!’ exclaimed Mr. Bumble, bursting into the room. “ Say that again, sir. Charlotte uttered a scream, and hid her face in her apron; while Mr. Claypole, without making any further change in his position than suffering his legs to reach the ground, gazed at the beadle in drunken terror. “Say it in, you vile, owdacious fellow !" said Mr. Bumble. " How dare you mention such a thing, sir? and how dare you encourage him, you insolent minx? Kiss her!" exclaimed Mr. Bumble in strong indignation. “ Faugh!” fő A I didn’t anne to Ar it!” said —— | ubbering. ‘ She’s always a-kissmg o me, eh I like it or not.” “ Oh, Noah !” cried Charlotte reproachfully. 6 Yer are, yer know yer are!” retorted Noah. ‘She’s always a-doing of it, Mr. Bumble, sir; she chucks me under the chins please sir, and makes all manner of ove !” c Silence!" cried. Mr. Bumble sternly. c Take yourself down stairs, ma’am! Noah, you shut up the shop, and say another word till your master comes home at your peril; and, when he does come home, tell him that Mr. Bumble said he breakfast to-morrow morning. Do you hear, sir? Kissing!” cried Mr. Bumble, holding up his hands. “ The sin and wickedness of the lower orders in this porochial district is frightful; if parhament don’t take their abominable courses under consideration, this country "s ruined, and the character of the peasantry gone for ever!" With these words the beadle strode, with a lofty and gloomy air, from the undertaker’s premises, | And now that we have accompanied him so far on his road home, and have made all necessary preparations for the old woman’s funeral, let us set on foot a few inquiries after young Oliver Twist, and ascertain whether he be still lying in the ditch where Toby Crackit left him.

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