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Robbing Mr. Brownlow
"See that old man over there looking at books?" asked the Dodger, leading Oliver to a bookstall on a busy street. "Watch us!"
He and Bates ran toward the gentleman. But the man was so busy reading that he never saw the two boys sneak up behind him and steal his handkerchief from his pocket. While Oliver watched in horror, they ran away. At last he understood what kind of 'business' Fagin and his boys engaged in.
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| Robbing Mr. Brownlow |
Oliver was so upset that he began running as fast as he could. The Dodger and Bates were already out of sight.
"Stop, thief!" yelled the gentleman, thinking that Oliver had stolen his handkerchief.
The people in the streets and even the dogs began to chase him. Someone in the crowd - a young man with purple lips and red sores all over his hands-grabbed Oliver and brought him down upon the pavement. The boy lay there, covered with mud, dust, and blood from a cut lip. A policeman pushed his way through the crowd and roughly pulled Oliver to his feet. He didn't find the handkerchief on the boy's body, but he brought him before a judge anyway.
Dodger and Bates Steal a Handkerchief.....
"I'm afraid the boy is sick, your honor," said Mr. Brownlow, the victim of the robbery. "Don't treat him too badly."
Oliver, indeed, was sick, and he fainted right on the courtroom floor.
Just then, the owner of the bookstall entered the room and swore that Oliver was not the thief.
"The boy is freed!" said the judge. "Call a carriage!" said Mr. Brownlow. "The boy is burning up with fever! I will take him home with me!"
Chasing a "Thief.....
Mr. Brownlow's house was completely different from Fagin's. Everything was new and clean. Oliver slept in a big soft bed, and Mrs. Bedwin, the housekeeper, nursed him back to health in several days.
A Remarkable Likeness!.....
On the wall of Mr. Brownlow's sitting room hung a picture of a beautiful young woman.
"Look, Mrs. Bedwin!" said Mr. Brownlow. "Oliver looks very much like the person in that picture! "The eyes, the head, the mouth-every feature is the same!"
There was, indeed, such a remarkable likeness that Mr. Brownlow could not tear his gaze from Oliver's face.
One evening, Mr. Brownlow called Oliver into his book-lined study.
"I have grown very fond of you, my boy, and I am interested in your future," the gentleman said.
Then you wont send me away, sir?
"Of course not, child. But I want to hear all about you-where you were born, where you have been living..."
Just then, 'Mr. Brownlow's friend arrived. Mr. Grimwig was a stout gentleman with a scowl on his face and a limp in one leg.
"Who is that boy?" asked Mr. Grimwig. "Where does he come from?"
Tomorrow I shall have a long talk with him and find out," Mr. Brownlow promised. "But now I have an errand for him. I want him to return some books for me to the bookstall. The owner sent too many, and I have to pay foor those I'm keeping."
Mr. Brownlow gave Oliver a five pound note and asked him to bring back the change.
"He won't return," warned Mr. Grimwig. "Mark my words. He'll run off with the books, sell them, and keep the money!"
An Errand for Oliver.....
"Nonsense!" snapped Mr. Brownlow. "Oliver's a good boy."