Lesson 1, Topic 1

In Progress

Oliver Twist

Judith Kpakpo

by Charles Dickens

Main Characters

Oliver Twist: Oliver was born in a workhouse and though he is treated with cruelty for most of his life, he remains innocent throughout.

Fagin: He is a cunning criminal who takes in homeless children and trains them to become pickpockets.

Nancy: She is one of Fagin’s former child pickpockets. Mr. Brownlow: He is Oliver’s first benefactor and is kind to Oliver.

Monks: He is Fagin’s friend.

Bill Sikes: He is part of Fagin’s gang and murders Nancy in the end.

Mr. Bumble: He is a church official who presides over the workhouse that Oliver was born in.

Agnes Fleming: Oliver Twist’s mother. The Artful Dodger: One of Fagin’s cleverest pickpockets. Charley Bates: Another of Fagin’s pickpockets.

Mrs. Maylie: A kind, wealthy elderly woman, the mother

of Harry Maylie and adoptive “aunt” of Rose. Rose Maylie: Agnes Fleming’s elder sister who was raised

by Mrs. Maylie.

Harry Maylie: Mrs. Maylie’s son.

A child was born in the workhouse of a parish in England Nobody remembers when, but it was a baby boy who was born an orphan. His mother died birth to him. A real pity, for she was such a young and beautiful woman. “Who was she?” asked the doctor. day that giving

“No idea,” said the nurse. “We found her lying on the road last night, so we took her in. She must’ve walked a long way for her shoes were worn out!”

“She must be unmarried; I can’t see a wedding ring.” said the doctor. He then left the baby in the care of the workhouse that looked after orphans. They gave him the name, Oliver Twist.

When he was hardly a year old, Oliver was sent to another workhouse, where he with twenty-five other children lived for eight years. Some were born troublemakers, others like Oliver, just didn’t have anyone to care for them. Mrs. Mann, who ran the workhouse, received money from the parish to buy food and clothes for the children. She, however, kept most of the money for herself. The only time she looked after the children well, by giving them good clothes and a good bath, was when an official from the parish came for inspection.

On Oliver’s ninth birthday, one such official from the church came to the workhouse. Oliver had grown into a thin. pale, malnourished, and miserable child. When the official, Mr. Bumble, saw him and his condition, he went angrily to Mrs. Mann. Mr. Bumble was a very fat man, middle-aged and bad-tempered.

“I see that Oliver has turned nine today,” he said. “That’s right,” said Mrs. Mann. “Did you know that the parish offered a large sum of money

Oliver Twist

for anyone who could get information about his father? We have no clue as to where he came from.”

“Why is he called Oliver Twist?” asked Mrs. Mann.

“I gave him that name. I name all the children alphabetically. The child before him was ‘S’ so I called him Bubble. Oliver is a ‘T’ so he’s Twist. I’ve given names from A to Z..”

“All right,” said Mrs. Mann, “but why are you asking about

Oliver today?” “The boy’s too old to be staying here. I’m going to take him back to the workhouse where he was born.”

Oliver was given a slice of bread and a simple outfit with a brown cap to wear outside. He meekly followed him outside the workhouse to his new home. Once there, he was brought before a committee of ten men.

“Boy, what’s your name?” snarled the chairman. ***

“Oliver Twist, sir.”

“You know that you’re an orphan, is that right?”

“What’s an orphan, sir?” asked Oliver very innocently. “It means you’ve been raised by the parish, for you have a mother nor a father.”

The information shocked Oliver so much, he burst into tears.

“Stop your tears, Boy!” cried the chairman, “you must pray

and thank God that the good people of the church feed you.” That night, poor Oliver cried himself to sleep on a thin, narrow, and hard bed. The next day, he met the other children of the workhouse and had his first meal with them. The food tasted terrible and it was far from filling! They were given soup three times a day, an onion twice a week, and half a roll on Sundays. Finally, after nearly starving for three months, the children decided to choose one from among them who would go and ask the cook for a second helping. Oliver was chosen.

Oliver took his plate and walked over to Mr Linbkins was serving dinner.

“Please, sir, might I have some more?” he whispered. Mr Limbkins’ eyes popped open as he couldn’t belo what he’d just heard. “What did you say?” he roared

“I-I’d like some more s-supper, sir,” Oliver stammered Mr Limbkins’ eyes flared dangerously. He stormed to the door and yelled for Mr Bumble, who got very angry wi

Oliver.

“Put the boy in a room all by himself!” declared Mr Bumble “That should teach him not to ask for too much to eat!”

The next morning, Mr Bumble posted a sign outside the workhouse offering a sum of five pounds to anyone who could take Oliver away and teach him a trade.

Mr. Bumble made Oliver miserable and the boy couldn’t Mwait to get away from the workhouse. One day, Mr Gamfield walked past the workhouse and saw the notice about Oliver. He was a chimney sweeper.

“I can teach the boy to be a chimney sweeper,” he told Mr Limbkins.

“But that’s a nasty job for a boy. The child could die with all that smoke and dust going into his lungs.” “You won’t let me have him, then?”

“For three pounds. You won’t have to spend much of taking care of the boy, for he hardly eats! If he troubles you, just spank him.”

Mr Bumble went to the Judge to get the papers signed, transferring Oliver to Mr Gamfield.

“I’ll make you an apprentice, Oliver,” Mr Gamfield told Oliver. “What’s an apprentice, sir?” whispered Oliver.

Oliver Twist

“It means that I’m going to teach you the tricks of the trade and make a man of you.”

The Judge saw the look of horror on Oliver’s face and his

teary eyes.

“What’s wrong. Boy?” asked the Judge. Oliver began sobbing bitterly. He got to his knees and begged the Judge not to hand him over to a cruel man like Mr Gamfield. Without a second thought, the judge tore up the papers and ordered Mr Bumble to take Oliver back to the workhouse and treat him better.

The next person to read the sign was Mr Sowerberry, the undertaker. “I need somebody to help me bury the dead,” he thought. He went to see Mr Bumble.

“The boy is yours for five pounds!” said Mr Bumble. Oliver then gathered all his belongings which were so few in number that they all fit into a paper bag. He went with Mr Bumble to the undertaker’s house, crying the entire way.

“Stop crying!” shouted Mr Bumble, “Be thankful that

you’re going to have a home because of the undertaker.” Oliver’s sobs subsided into hiccups. “I’m sorry, sir,” he whispered.

Mrs Sowerberry was a short, plump woman with a mean temper. She scowled at Oliver when she saw him.

“Look at him!” she said, “All skin and bones.”

She led him to a cold kitchen.

“Charlotte,” she called her maid, “give the boy the meat we set aside for the dog!”

It was really a sad thing to watch the poor little Oliver hang on to that piece of meat which tasted almost like rubber. After he had eaten, Mrs Sowerberry led him down a flight of stairs to the basement. When the light from the candle fell on the room, Oliver couldn’t hide his horror. The room was filled with empty coffins, big and small.

They came running inside and dragged Oliver into a cellar and locked him in.

Mrs Sowerberry told Noah to infonn Mr Bumble about Oliver.

“But he was calling my mother names!” cried Oliver. “She deserved it,” said Noah.

“Liar!”

Mr Sowerberry beat Oliver severely that night and gave him nothing but a stale piece of bread to eat. Oliver began to cry when he was alone. Once he was done, he wrapped up his belongings, climbed through the window and left the house forever.

Oliver walked 70 miles to London. In such a big city, no one would ever find him! It was chilly and his feet hurt but he was happy to leave his old, miserable life behind. He begged at cottages for food and water and slept in haystacks. After walking for a week, Oliver came across a boy his own age, who dressed and acted like a man. He was short, bow legged and had ugly eyes. His clothes were soiled and his hat was too big for his small head. His pants were baggy and reached below his knees.

“Hey, young fella,” he called Oliver, in a thick Cockney accent, “What’re ya up to?” “I’ve been on the road for a week. I’m tired and hungry,”

said the boy feebly. “C’mon then, I’ll get ya some food.”

Saying this, the boy, Jack Dawkins, or the Artful Dodger, got Oliver some bread and meat, and then took him to a tavern for some beer. It was the biggest meal Oliver remembered having!

THE

“Going to London, then?”

“Yes.”

“Know where ya’ll stay there?”

“No.”

“Got money?”

“No,” replied Oliver.

“I’m going to London myself,” said the Dodger, “I know

someone who’ll give ya free room and board if I introduce ya.” Oliver went with him willingly to a broken down house, in a filthy, foul-smelling street in London.

“Oye Fagin!” the Dodger called out, “Ya there? I got someone I want ya to meet!”

They saw an ugly old man, dressed in flannel and cooking sausages. His mouth cracked into a grin. At a table were five boys, drinking spirits and smoking long clay pipes. There was a clothes rack on which many silk handkerchiefs were hung. “Here’s my friend, Oliver Twist,” announced the Dodger.

Fagin looked at Oliver, surprised, and then took out a box from the trap door in the floor. Inside were beautiful gold watches, rings and other jewellery. Oliver didn’t understand why a man with so many riches would live in such a horrible place. He thought that Fagin must be spending all his money looking after the boys. He washed himself in a basin and threw out the dirty water as Fagin suggested. He then ate breakfast with Fagin, the Dodger and Charley Bates.

“What did you boys bring back today?” asked Fagin. “We got four silk handkerchiefs,” replied Charley. “Very good. Oliver, would you like to be able to make such

beautiful things?”

“Yes, sir. If you’ll teach me.”

The other boys started laughing, “Oh, we’ll teach you!” Oliver didn’t get the joke in the conversation. He was even more confused at the game they all played after breakfast.

Fagin dressed like an English gentleman and stuffed his pockets with a handkerchief, wallet, snuff box and other objects. He picked up a cane and began strutting around the room. The boys followed him silently around the room. When the gentleman’ stopped, one of the boys stepped on his foot while another cleverly emptied his pockets of its objects. Then, before the victim could turn around, they all disappeared.

Later, Fagin told Oliver that Charley and the Dodger would be great men. “Take their advice, do what they do, and you’ll be famous too. Now try and take this handkerchief out of my back pocket without me feeling it.”

Oliver did exactly what Charley and the Dodger did, smoothly removing the object from the pocket. Fagin was proud of him and gave him a shilling. After Oliver had practised the trick for many days, he was allowed to go out with Charley and the Dodger.

The Dodger led Oliver to a bookstall in a busy street. “See that old man there looking at the books? Watch us!”

He and Charley ran towards the gentleman who did not realise that he was being sneaked upon. He never saw them remove his handkerchief from his pocket. While Oliver watched in horror, they ran away. He finally understood what Fagin and the boys did. He began running as fast as he could

but the other boys were already out of sight. The gentleman turned around and saw Oliver dash past him.

“Stop, thief!” he shouted, thinking Oliver had robbed him. The poor boy found himself being chased by people and even dogs! Someone in the crowd, a young man with purple lips and red sores all over his hands, grabbed Oliver and knocked him down. Oliver tasted blood as he cut his lip. He was dragged up by a policeman and was taken before the Judge,

even though the old gentleman didn’t find the handkerchie on him. He saw how pale the boy looked and said to the Judge “Your honour, I think the boy is unwell. Don’t be too han with him.”

The moment the gentleman uttered these words, Oliver fainted and fell on the floor. The owner of the bookstall pushed his way through the crowd and swore that Oliver wasn’t the boy who robbed the gentleman.

“All charges dropped!” said the Judge.

The gentleman, Mr Brownlow, then called for his carriage “I’ll take him with me. The boy is burning up with fever!”

Mr Brownlow’s house was big and beautiful, nothing like Fagin’s. Oliver slept on a comfortably large bed with clean sheets and soft pillows. The housekeeper, Mrs Bedwin, nursed Oliver back to health in a few days. It was then that Mr Brownlow saw the striking resemblance between Oliver and a beautiful woman whose portrait hung in the living room.

“Look, Mrs Bedwin! Oliver looks just like her! The features are too similar.”

There was such a remarkable likeness that even Mr Brownlow couldn’t tear his eyes away from Oliver. One evening, he called the boy to his study.

“Oliver, my boy, I’ve grown quite fond of you. So has Mrs Bedwin! I’m interested in your future.”

“You won’t send me away then, sir?” asked Oliver. “Not at all. But I want to hear all about you; where you born, where you’ve been living, how you got into thieving…. were

Just then, Mr Brownlow’s old friend, Mr Grimwig came. He was a stout gentleman with a grouchy look on his face and a limp in his leg.

“Who’s that boy?” he demanded. “I shall find out all tomorrow,” promised Mr Brownlow.

Oliver Twist

Right now, I have an errand for him. Oliver, run to the bookstall and return some books for me. The owner sent too many and I’m paying for the ones I’m keeping.” He handed Oliver a five pound note and asked him to bring

back the change. After Oliver left, Mr Grimwig wamed Mr Brownlow that the boy would run off with the money. “Nonsense!” snapped Mr Brownlow, “He’s a good lad.”

Then the Dodger and Charley returned that fateful day W from the robbery, Fagin saw that Oliver was not with them.

“Where is he?” he roared.

A very loud voice cut in before they could talk. It was one of Fagin’s gang men, Bill Sikes. His face had beer stains and his clothes were dirty. There was a shaggy white dog at his feet. When he heard about Oliver and the robbery, he cursed Fagin for letting the boy go out before he was even ready.

“Oliver will blab to the police and get us all in trouble!” Sikes complained, “Find him and bring him back!”

No member of the gang was willing to go near the police station. They finally chose a young woman in their party, Nancy, who often did the gang’s dirty work. They ordered her to dress well, like a lady, and go to the market. Once there, she cried,

“Oh, where’s my brother? Will no one help me find him?” “I can’t see any little boys, mum,” said an officer at the police station. described Oliver. “Oh, he!” said the gentleman.

“He was driven to the home of a gentleman in Pentonville.”

Fagin exploded when he heard the news. “I don’t care! Even if we have to kidnap him, he must be found and brought back here!”

Sikes and Nancy met Fagin at a tavern. They left immediately after receiving instructions from him. They located Oliver and followed him just as he was leaving Mr Brownlow’s house to run to the bookstall. They soon caught up with him.

“Oh, my dear brother, at last I’ve found you!,” cried Nancy, throwing her arms around Oliver while a crowd gathered around them. Oliver was too surprised to even talk.

“He ran away from his parents who took such good care of him,” explained Nancy, “By joining a band of robbers, he almost broke his mother’s heart!”

“What a naughty boy!” scolded an old woman. “You go home and stay out of trouble!” said another.

“But I have no parents!” shouted Oliver, “I’m an orphan!” Suddenly, Sikes appeared with his dog.

“There you are, Boy!” he snarled, “Go home this instant!

Your mother is waiting for you.” “Help!” cried Oliver, as he was being dragged away, don’t know these people! Please, don’t let them take me away.” Sikes took the books from Oliver and shouted, “I bet you

stole these too!”

The boy, still weak from his illness, was dragged away, while later, he stood before Fagin, with tears falling down his cheeks, while his pockets were being emptied. A

“Would you look at Oliver’s new clothes and new books? And look at the five pound note!” “That’s my money,” Sikes growled.

“No, it’s mine!” said Fagin, “You can sell the books if you

like.” “If Nancy and I won’t get the money, we’ll take the boy back again.”

With a scowl, Fagin handed over the money to Sikes.

“Don’t take the books! They belong to the kind gentleman who took care of me, when I was ill. Keep me if you want, but please return the money and books or he’ll think I stole them!” cried Oliver.

“Shut up! I’ll set the dog on you otherwise,” threatened Sikes “Don’t do it!” cried

Nancy, “Leave the boy alone.” Fagin advanced towards Oliver and began to hit him on his shoulders with a club when Nancy came between them.

“Stop! He’s just a boy! You’ve got him back, what more do you want? Isn’t it enough that you made him a thief? I stole things for you when I was younger than him! Leave him alone, Fagin.”

“That’s enough, Nancy!” shouted Fagin, “Charley! Take Oliver to bed and make sure he doesn’t wear fancy clothes again.”

Meanwhile, Mrs Bedwin lit the oil-lamps and sent the servant up and down the streets many times to find Oliver, but in vain. In the sitting room, Mr Brownlow and Mr Grimwig sat with grim expressions on their faces.

VII

Mr. Bumble had taken some time off from the workhouse to go to London, to take care of some formal duties . At a local tavern, he read a notice which said: “Five guineas reward to anyone who can give information about a young boy, Oliver Twist, who either ran away or was kidnapped last week from his home. The money goes to whoever finds Oliver or sheds light on his past.” Mr Brownlow’s address with Oliver’s description was printed at the bottom of the notice. Mr Bumble quickly went to Mr Brownlow’s and found him sitting with Mr Grimwig in

the study. He told them all he knew about Oliver: the boy being born to a low parentage, attacking another boy and running away in the middle of the night. Mr Bumble even presented legal papers, claiming that he knew Oliver personally.

“Thank you for coming,” said Mr Brownlow sadly, “Here’s your money. I only wish your report about Oliver had been more favourable.”

“He was such a dear, sweet boy,” said Mrs Bedwin.

“I am so disappointed with that boy, I don’t want to ever hear his name mentioned in this house again, is that clear? said Mr Brownlow.

Mr Grimwig thought his friend looked upset, so he decided not to say, “I told you so.”

O ne night, soon after Oliver was found, Fagin went to visit Sikes and Nancy.

“When are we doing the robbery at Chertsey?”

“It doesn’t look possible; none of the maids will go along with us,” said Sikes.

“If we can’t do it from inside, what about from the outside? I’ll give you something extra.” Sikes nodded. “But I’ve looked at the house. I’ll need

someone small enough to climb through the little window.” “Oliver’s perfect!” said Fagin, “He’ll be well trained this time. He won’t cause trouble.”

“We’ll do it two nights from today. There won’t be any moonlight then. Nancy, you bring Oliver to me.” Oliver was reading when Nancy sat on a chair and began

moaning loudly, her head in her hands. “God forgive me, but this wasn’t my idea. Bill Sikes wants you. Do whatever he tells you and keep your mouth shut! He’s mean and will kill you to save himself.”

“What does he want me for?” asked Oliver. “For no good.”

She led Oliver out into the street. He thought of screaming for help and she read his mind.

“It wouldn’t work. I tried helping you and it didn’t work. I promised Fagin and Sikes that you’d be quiet and obey them. If you do as they say quietly, nothing will happen to you or me. I don’t want to die. Don’t make me suffer more than I already am!”

When they met Sikes, he was loading a pistol. He warned Oliver that if he made a sound or gave them away, he’d be shot. At 5.00 a.m., Sikes and Oliver left the house. Oliver covered himself in a large cape and tied a handkerchief around his neck. He turned round to look at Nancy, but she was looking elsewhere. Sikes and Oliver walked for the whole day until they met another gang member, Toby Crackit.

“Hallo, Bill,” he said, “Who’s your dear friend?” “Oliver Twist, one of Fagin’s boys.”

Toby looked at Oliver and grinned. The man was chubby, bald and dressed shabbily. He was smoking a long pipe and his ring covered hands were filthy. After tucking pistols in their belt, they led Oliver into the foggy night. On reaching the house, Toby climbed the wall. Sikes

handed Oliver him, then jumped over himself. “Please, let me go! I promise not to tell a soul. Have mercy on me. Don’t make me do this!”

Sikes cursed and pointed his pistol at Oliver while Toby dragged him to the window to squeeze through. “Take this,” said Sikes, handing a lantern to Oliver, “Once

you’re in, unlock the front door for us. My gun’s pointed at you so don’t try and act smart!” Oliver sneaked into the house and made his way to the

front door to let the two men in. When all three of them were walking down the hall, Oliver decided to run up and want sleeping family, even if it meant his death. Suddenly, Sk was shouting from behind him, “Come back! Back

Frightened by Sikes’s voice and by a loud cry from pain Oliver dropped the lantern. A light appeared on top of the stairs and two frightened, half-dressed men appeared. The was a loud bang and Oliver staggered back. Oliver felt he being dragged along, while Sikes fired at the two men. Or had been shot and was bleeding badly. A cold, deadly feeling crept over the boy. After a while, he saw and heard nothing

Mrs. Mann, the woman working at the workhouse where Moliver was born, was having tea with Mr Bumble before a cheery fire. She enjoyed Mr Bumble’s visits for she had been a widow for 25 years and he was a single man. After he finished his tea, Mr Bumble wiped his hands and, suddenly, leaned over and kissed Mrs Mann on her lips.

“Mr Bumble! Stop, or I shall scream!” The next instant, the door opened and an ugly old woman poked her head inside.

“Mrs Mann, Old Sally’s going fast. She won’t last for long She says she has something important to tell you.”

Annoyed at being disturbed, she excused herself and rushed to an attic room where Old Sally lay. She was twisted with age and trembling with pain.

Mrs Mann snapped at the two ladies attending her, “Listen you old hags, I don’t have time to watch all the sick people in this place die!”

She was about to leave the room when Old Sally rose up and stretched out her arms. “Don’t go,” she whispered, “Come here. I have something to tell you.”

Oliver Twist

In a buff, Mrs Mann walked to the bedside. “Listen,” rasped the old woman, “In this very room, I once

nursed a pretty young thing who was brought in with her feet cut and bleeding and her clothing covered in dirt. She gave birth to a baby boy…”

“What about her?” asked Mrs Mann.

The old woman’s eyes popped out and she moaned, “I robbed her. Before her body was cold, I robbed her of the one item she had. She could have sold it for food or shelter but she

kept it safe, until I took it when she died. It was pure gold!” “Gold?” This excited Mrs Mann. “Well, tell me, who was this woman?”

“The poor thing trusted me to keep it safe. But she’s gone and the child might be dead too! If so, it’s my fault. Had they known, he’d have been treated better…”

This puzzled Mrs Mann. “What are you talking about,

Woman?”

“The boy looked so much like her. Poor child, she was so young!”

The dying woman was out of breath and she fell back on her pillow.

“Tell me, before it’s too late!” shouted Mrs Mann.

“The mother whispered that if the baby lived, he shouldn’t feel ashamed to mention his mother’s name.” Old Sally murmured.

“What the boy’s name?” asked a frustrated Mrs Mann. “Oliver. The gold I stole, I sold at a pawn shop…” Before she could utter another word, her head fell to the side, her body lifeless. Disgusted, Mrs Mann took a piece of paper from Old Sally’s

hands and called her attendants to take care of the body.

agin, Charley and the Dodger wanted eagerly for news of and fell on a chair, silent for several moments.

“How’s Bill Sikes?” he asked finally.

“What?”” screamed Fagin

“Do you mean…?” asked Toby.

“Where are Sikes and Oliver, Toby? asked Fagin, “Why haven’t they returned with you?”

“The robbery failed,” said Toby, quietly. “They fired and shot the boy. We ran away with him but the noise had everyone chasing us in the countryside.” +What happened to the boy?”

“Bill carried him on this back until the boy started becoming too heavy. The mob almost reached us, so it was every man for himself. We left the boy in a ditch.

Fagin let out a cry of frustration and walked to The Three Cripples in where Sikes usually visited.

“Have you seen Sikes?” he asked the owner, who shook his head.

“Is Monks here? If you see him, tell him I have something to tell him.”

“He should be here in ten minutes,” said the owner.

“I can’t wait here. Tell him to see me tomorrow!”

Fagin then went and told Nancy everything. She shook her head sadly and said it was probably better that the boy was dead than being with them.

Fagin raged about Sikes for a while, then left. When he gol home, a dark, shadowy figure stood at his doorway

“I’ve been waiting two hours for you,” said the man “Where were you?

“Out on your business all night, Monks,” said Fagin nervously, “We’ll talk inside.”

Oliver Twist

Fagin then told Monks of the unsuccessful robbery. “It wasn’t planned well. Why didn’t you keep Oliver here and make a pickpocket of him? Or set up to be arrested for life?”

“That didn’t interest me. But it wasn’t easy training him in the business. He wasn’t like the other boys. I had nothing to hold against him. What could I do? When I sent him with the Dodger and Charley to pickpocket at the bookstall, he failed and got caught. Then he was taken in by the very man the boys were trying to rob!”

“Not my fault,” grumbled Monks. “I know,” said Fagin, “In fact, since you had never seen him before you couldn’t have recognised him as the boy you were looking for when you knocked him down for the police to nab. I got Nancy to get him back for you, but now she’s began to like him.”

“Spank Nancy then!” said Monks, biting his swollen purple lips angrily.

“Can’t, but I can turn Oliver into a thief, if he’s still alive.” “If he’s dead, I had nothing to do with it. I told you from the start, no murders! I’d always feel guilty and…”

Suddenly Monks stopped and noticed the shadow of a woman outside the window. Had someone overheard them? They went out to check but there was no one around.

Oliver, thrown into a ditch, woke up hours later, his little body racked with pain from the gun shot. A bloodied bandage was wrapped around his left arm. He struggled to feet and walked to the nearest house, which happened to be the house he had been told to rob. He staggered across the lawn, breathing heavily and knocked on the door faintly. The servants, Giles and Brittles, ran to the window. “Why, it’s a boy! And he’s hurt badly!” They recognised him as one of the robbers and the one Giles shot. “Let’s see that he lives. I want to see him hanged for his crime.”

“Enough, Giles,” said the mistress of the house. “Run to town now and fetch the doctor.”

There were two ladies in the house. One was a stately older woman, Mrs Maylie. The other was her niece, a beautiful 17-year old called Rose. They followed Dr Losborne into the room where Oliver lay and were shocked to see how young Oliver was. Rose Maylie bent over him and gently brushed the hair from his face.

“Poor thing,” she cooed, “to think that this poor boy was turned into a robber? Maybe, he never knew a mother’s love or the love of a family. Maybe, he was forced into a life of crime because he was starving. We must think this over before we have him arrested!”

Oliver was very ill and weak from loss of blood. But he gradually improved after several days of care by Mrs Maylic, Rose and the doctor. When he had gained a little strength, he told the Maylies about his past, making Rose weep bitterly. She had come to care a lot for the boy. “We must help the boy,” she begged her aunt.

“Yes,” she agreed, “Can you do something?” she asked Dr Losborne. “Maybe we can convince the servants that they were mistaken about the identity. Then we can save him from

the police.”

The kind doctor called Giles and Brittles and asked them if they could do what was asked. When the policeman arrived, they didn’t identify the boy, so Oliver was free of charges. It wasn’t difficult to do since Oliver looked helpless. How could this little boy rob a house?

Twist Oliver recovered quickly from his wounds and spent happy days with the Maylies. One day, Dr Losborne decided to take Oliver to Mr Brownlow. Oliver agreed, for, he wanted to clear any misunderstanding between him and Mr Brownlow. But alas, when they got there, they saw that the house was empty and that a FOR RENT sign was put up before it.

“Where has Mr Brownlow gone?” the doctor asked a neighbour.

“He packed his things and left for the West Indies six weeks ago. His housekeeper and his friend, Mr Grimwig, went with him.”

Oliver was disappointed. But he kept busy helping Rose and Mrs Maylie do chores. He also learnt how to read and write well. He spent many happy hours running about the country and picking flowers and would listen to Rose play the piano in the evenings.

XII

he happy days ended suddenly when Rose fell terribly running four miles to leave a message for Dr Losborne at the post office. When Oliver was watching the postman saddle his horse, a horrible looking man with purple lips and red sores

on his hands came running towards him from the inn. “Curse you!” the man yelled, “Why can’t I ever be free of you?”

The man came rushing at Oliver with fists raised. The boy turned and ran away at full speed. He turned again to watch the man fall to the ground, writhing and foaming in a fit.

When Dr Losborne arrived, he saw that there was hardly any chance of Rose’s recovery.

“There is nothing to do but pray.”

He stayed by her side for three days and three nights. On the fourth day, he went out, with relief on his face. Rose would live. Her fever had gone. Oliver was overjoyed and rushed to the garden to pick up the most beautiful flowers for Rose. While he was doing that, he saw a carriage pull up at the front of the house and a handsome man got off. It was Mrs Maylie’s son, Harry. He rushed to his mother.

“Mother, why didn’t you tell me about Rose? What if she had died?” he cried.

“You know why, Son. If a rich and successful man marries

a woman whose name is stained because of her birth, it will be

quite sad indeed. I love both you and Rose dearly, but wicked people will not let her forget her past, even though it’s not her fault. She’ll suffer if you turn against her!” “I’d never do that!” shouted Harry, “She’s my life, my love!

Let her decide if she wants me.”

The following evening, Oliver was sitting on the porch when, suddenly, he saw Fagin’s face before him.

“Come away with me, my boy,” Fagin pleaded.

Then another man appeared next to Fagin; it was the same horrible man who tried to attack Oliver outside the inn. The next instant, they were gone and Oliver ran screaming for help. Harry knew about Oliver and understood his fears. He and Giles searched the grounds but no one was found.

“You must’ve imagined them, Oliver,” said Harry when they returned.

“I really saw them!” he insisted.

When Rose recovered from her fever, Harry had a long talk with her.

“I wish you hadn’t come,” she said, with tenderness in her eyes.

“There is nothing to do but pray.”

“Mother, why didn’t you tell me about Rose? What if she had died?” he cried.

“You know why, Son. If a rich and successful man marries

a woman whose name is stained because of her birth, it will be

Let her decide if she wants me.”

The following evening, Oliver was sitting on the porch when, suddenly, he saw Fagin’s face before him.

“Come away with me, my boy,” Fagin pleaded.

“You must’ve imagined them, Oliver,” said Harry when they returned.

“I really saw them!” he insisted.

When Rose recovered from her fever, Harry had a long talk with her.

“I wish you hadn’t come,” she said, with tenderness in her eyes.

Yes, I’m master of the workhouse,” said Mr Bumble proudly.

“Good! I was looking for you. I need some information. I’ll pay you for it,” said the man.

The stranger pushed a handful of coins across the table and Mr Bumble pocketed them. “Now,” said the stranger, “Think back twelve years ago, a

scene at a workhouse. A woman gave birth to a boy, who was

left to the parish to take care of.” “There are many such cases,” said Mr Bumble.

“This one grew into a pale-faced, weak boy who was sent to work with an undertaker and then ran away to London…” “Oliver Twist!”

“Right. Now where’s the hag who looked after his mother?

asked the stranger. “She died last winter.”

Suddenly the stranger rose to leave.

“Wait,” said Mr Bumble, “The night Old Sally died, she confessed something to my wife, but not entirely, for, she died before she could finish. I don’t know what she told my wife

exactly. She can tell you more.” “Where can I find her?” asked the stranger.

“I’ll bring her to you.”

“The man gave Mr Bumble an address with no name and told him to be there by 9.00 p.m. the following evening. “What’s your name, sir?”

“Monks,” replied the stranger and walked out.

XIV

t was humid and cloudy when Mr and Mrs Bumble arrived “Hello”, shouted Monks. sky He led them to a small room with shattered windows.

“Let’s get to the point,” he said, “What did the hag tell you the night she died?”

“What is the information worth to you?” asked Mrs Bumble gone calmly while her husband thought she’d g mad. “Depends on what you tell me,” said Monks.

“I’ll take 25 pounds in gold!”

Monks hesitated for a minute before handing over the money.

Mrs Bumble told him that Old Sally spoke of a young mother who gave birth to a boy in the very bed she died. The child was called Oliver.

“Go on!” pleaded Monks.

“Old Sally robbed the mother when she died; she took a

piece of gold jewellery.”

“What did she with it?”

“She was about to tell me when she fell back on the bed,

dead.”

“That’s all she said?” cried Monks, “You lie!” Undisturbed, Mrs Bumble continued, “She didn’t say another word! That’s the honest truth. But when she grabbed my hand, she was clutching a piece of paper.”

“What was it?” “A pawnbroker’s ticket. She must’ve sold the object for money.”

“What did you do?”

“I went to the pawnbroker and paid off the loan plus interest to get the jewellery back.”

“Do you have it?” asked Monks. “Right here!” Mrs Bumble took out a small box containing a

plain gold wedding ring and a little gold locket with two locks of hair. The locket had the name, ‘Agnes’ written on it. There was a space left for the last name. Then there was the date, which was

THE

within the year Oliver was born Monks was happy. Suddenly, Monks opened a trap door, exposing the raging river below.He covered the box in a handkerchief tied to a rock and threw t into the moving waters. He watched the rock drag the box to the bottom of the river. He turned to Mr and Mrs Bumble. “This is just between us, understood?”

They nodded and left quickly, happy to get out unharmed

The night after Monks met Bumbles, Fagin went to see

Tikes and Nancy.

“Where’ve you been, Fagin?” demanded Sikes, impatiently “I was away on business,” he replied.

“Well, I need money. If it hadn’t been for Nancy, I’d have diod

“I’ll send some money over with the Dodger,” said Fagin “I don’t trust that boy. I’ll send Nancy to pick it up.”

While at Fagin’s, Nancy saw Monks arriving. He and Fagin walked upstairs to another room to talk. Nancy followed and stood quietly outside the door. When they came down she was putting her shawl and bonnet on. She didn’t look at Fagin when he dropped the coins in her hand. She was too frightened at what she heard upstairs.

She was weak and pale by the time she reached Sikes’ with the money.

“What’s wrong?” asked Sikes. “Nothing,” she replied with false gaiety.

Later that night, she slipped some sleeping powder inte Sikes’ drink. After he dozed off, she slipped out of the house “I hope I’m not too late,” she prayed as she walked into fancy hotel in the West End of London.

She told the doorman breathlessly that she wanted to see

THE

They nodded and left quickly, happy to get out unharmed

The night after Monks met Bumbles, Fagin went to see

Tikes and Nancy.

“Where’ve you been, Fagin?” demanded Sikes, impatiently “I was away on business,” he replied.

“Well, I need money. If it hadn’t been for Nancy, I’d have diod

“I’ll send some money over with the Dodger,” said Fagin “I don’t trust that boy. I’ll send Nancy to pick it up.”

She was weak and pale by the time she reached Sikes’ with the money.

“What’s wrong?” asked Sikes. “Nothing,” she replied with false gaiety.

She told the doorman breathlessly that she wanted to see