He threw open the door of a back-room, and drew Oliver
in after him.
The walls and ceiling of the room were perfectly black
with age and dirt. There was a deal table before
the fire: upon which were a candle, stuck in
a ginger-beer bottle, two or three pewter pots, a
loaf and butter, and a plate. In a frying-pan,
which was on the fire, and which was secured to the
mantelshelf by a string, some sausages were cooking;
and standing over them, with a toasting-fork in his
hand, was a very old shrivelled Jew, whose villainous-looking
and repulsive face was obscured by a quantity of matted
red hair. He was dressed in a greasy flannel gown,
with his throat bare; and seemed to be dividing his
attention between the frying-pan and the clothes-horse,
over which a great number of silk handkerchiefs were
hanging. Several rough beds made of old sacks,
were huddled side by side on the floor. Seated
round the table were four or five boys, none older
than the Dodger, smoking long clay pipes, and drinking
spirits with the air of middle-aged men. These
all crowded about their associate as he whispered
a few words to the Jew; and then turned round and
grinned at Oliver. So did the Jew himself, toasting-fork
in hand.
‘This is him, Fagin,’ said Jack Dawkins;’my
friend Oliver Twist.’
The Jew grinned; and, making a low obeisance to Oliver,
took him by the hand, and hoped he should have the
honour of his intimate acquaintance. Upon this,
the young gentleman with the pipes came round him,
and shook both his hands very hard—especially
the one in which he held his little bundle.
One young gentleman was very anxious to hang up his
cap for him; and another was so obliging as to put
his hands in his pockets, in order that, as he was
very tired, he might not have the trouble of emptying
them, himself, when he went to bed. These civilities
would probably be extended much farther, but for a
liberal exercise of the Jew’s toasting-fork
on the heads and shoulders of the affectionate youths
who offered them.
‘We are very glad to see you, Oliver, very,’
said the Jew. ’Dodger, take off the sausages;
and draw a tub near the fire for Oliver. Ah,
you’re a-staring at the pocket-handkerchiefs!
eh, my dear. There are a good many of ’em,
ain’t there? We’ve just looked ’em
out, ready for the wash; that’s all, Oliver;
that’s all. Ha! ha! ha!’
The latter part of this speech, was hailed by a boisterous
shout from all the hopeful pupils of the merry old
gentleman. In the midst of which they went to
supper.
Oliver ate his share, and the Jew then mixed him a
glass of hot gin-and-water: telling him he must
drink it off directly, because another gentleman wanted
the tumbler. Oliver did as he was desired.
Immediately afterwards he felt himself gently lifted
on to one of the sacks; and then he sunk into a deep
sleep.
CHAPTER IX
CONTAINING FURTHER PARTICULARS CONCERNING THE PLEASANT
OLD GENTLEMAN, AND HIS HOPEFUL PUPILS
