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victuals and our drink。 I see no saving in parish children； not I； for
they always cost more to keep； than they’re worth。 However； men
always think they know best。 There！ Get downstairs； little bag o’
bones。” With this； the undertaker’s wife opened a side door； and
pushed Oliver down a steep flight of stairs into a stone cell； damp
and dark； forming the ante…room to the coal…cellar； and
denominated “kitchen”： wherein sat a slatternly girl； in shoes
down at heel； and blue worsted stockings very much out of repair。
“Here； Charlotte；” said Mrs。 Sowerberry； who had followed
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
Oliver Twist
Oliver down； “give the boy some of the cold bits that were put by
for Trip。 He hasn’t come home since the morning； so he may go
without ’em。 I dare say the boy isn’t too dainty to eat ’em—are you；
boy？”
Oliver； whose eyes had glistened at the mention of meat； and
who was trembling with eagerness to devour it； replied in the
negative； and a plateful of coarse broken victuals was set before
him。
I wish some well…fed philosopher； whose meat and drink turn to
gall within him； whose blood is ice； whose heart is iron； could have
seen Oliver Twist clutching at the dainty viands that the dog had
neglected。 I wish he could have witnessed the horrible avidity with
which Oliver tore the bits asunder with all the ferocity of famine。
There is only one thing I should like better； and that would be to
see the philosopher making the same sort of meal himself； with the
same relish。
“Well；” said the undertaker’s wife； when Oliver had finished his
supper； which she had regarded in silent horror； and with fearful
auguries of his future appetite； “have you done？”
There being nothing eatable within his reach； Oliver replied in
the affirmative。
“Then come with me；” said Mrs。 Sowerberry； taking up a dim
and dirty lamp； and leading the way upstairs； “your bed’s under
the counter。 You don’t mind sleeping among the coffins； I
suppose？ But it doesn’t much matter whether you do or don’t； for
you can’t sleep anywhere else。 Come； don’t keep me here all
night！”
Oliver lingered no longer； but meekly followed his new
mistress。
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
Oliver Twist
Chapter 5
Oliver Mingles With New Associates—Going To A
Funeral For The First Time； He Forms An
Unfavourable Notion Of His Master’s Business。
O liver； being left to himself in the undertaker’s shop； set the
lamp down on a workman’s bench； and gazed timidly
about him with a feeling of awe and dread； which many
people a good deal older than he will be at no loss to understand。
An unfinished coffin on black trestles； which stood in the middle of
the shop； looked so gloomy and death…like that a cold tremble
came over him； every time his eyes wandered in the direction of
the dismal object； from which he almost expected to see some
frightful form slowly rear its head； to drive him mad with terror。
Against the wall were ranged； in regular array； a long row of elm
boards cut into the same shape： looking in the dim light； like high…
shouldered ghosts with their hands in their breeches pockets。
Coffin plates； elm chips； bright…headed nails； and shreds of black
cloth； lay scattered on the floor； and the wall behind the counter
was ornamented with a lively representation of two mutes in very
stiff neckcloths； on duty at a large private door； with a hearse
drawn by four black steeds； approaching in the distance。 The shop
was close and hot； and the atmosphere seemed tainted with the
smell of coffins。 The recess beneath the counter in which his flock
mattress was thrust； looked like a grave。
Nor were these the only dismal feelings which depressed
Oliver。 He was alone in a strange place； and we all know how
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
Oliver Twist
chilled and desolate the best of us will sometimes feel in such a
situation。 The boy had no friends to care for； or to care for him。
The regret of no recent separation was fresh in his mind； the
absence of no loved and well…remembered face sank heavily into
his heart。 But his heart was heavy； notwithstanding； and he
wished； as he crept into his narrow bed； that that were his coffin；
and that he could be lain in a calm and lasting sleep in the
churchyard ground； with the tall grass waving gently above his
head； and the sound of the old deep bell to soothe him in his sleep。
Oliver was awakened in the morning by a loud kicking at the
outside of the shop door； which； before he could huddle on his
clothes； was repeated； in an angry and impetuous manner； about
twenty…five times。 When he began to undo the chain； the legs
desisted； and a voice began。 “Open the door； will yer？” cried the
voice which belonged to the legs which had kicked at the door。
“I will； directly； sir；” replied Oliver； undoing the chain and
turning the key。
“Yes； sir；’ replied Oliver。
“How old are yer？’ inquired the voice。
“Ten； sir；” replied Oliver。
“Then I’ll whop yer when I get in；” said the voice； “you just see
if I don’t； that’s all； my work’us brat！” and having made this
obliging promise； the voice began to whistle。
Oliver had been too often subjected to the process to which the
very expressive monosyllable just recorded bears reference； to
entertain the smallest doubt that the owner of the voice； whoever
he might be； would redeem his pledge； most honourably。 He drew
back the bolts with a trembling hand； and opened the door。
For a second or two； Oliver glanced up the street； and down the
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
Oliver Twist
street； and over the way； impressed with the belief that the
unknown who had addressed him through the keyhole； had
walked a few paces off； to warm himself； for nobody did he see but
a big charity…boy； sitting on a post in front of the house； eating a
slice of bread…and…butter； which he cut into wedges； the size of his
mouth； with a clasp knife； and then consumed with great
dexterity。
“I beg your pardon； sir；” said Oliver； at length； seeing that no
other visitor made his appearance； “did you knock？”
“I kicked；” replied the charity…boy。
“Did you want a coffin； sir？” inquired Oliver innocently。
At this the charity…boy looked monstrous fierce； and said that
Oliver would want one before long； if he cut jokes with his
superiors in that way。
“Yer don’t know who I am； I suppose； Work’us？” said the
charity…boy； in continuation； descending from the top of the post；
meanwhile； with edifying gravity。
“No； sir；” rejoined Oliver。
“I’m Mister Noah Claypole；” said the charity…boy； “and you’re
under me。 Take down the shutters； yer idle young ruffian！” With
this； Mr。 Claypole administered a kick to Oliver； and entered the
shop with a dignified air； which did him great credit。 It is difficult
for a large…headed； small…eyed youth； of lumbering make and
heavy countenance； to look dignified under any circumstances；
but it is more especially so； when superadded to these personal
attractions are a red nose and yellow smalls。
Oliver； having taken down the shutters； and broken a pane of
glass in his efforts to stagger away beneath the weight； of the first
one； to a small court at the side of the house in which they were
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
Oliver Twist
kept during the day； was graciously assisted by Noah； who； having
consoled him with the assurance that “he’d catch it；”
condescended to help him。 Mr。 Sowerberry came down soon after。
Shortly afterwards； Mrs。 Sowerberry appeared； and Oliver having
“caught it；” in fulfilment of Noah’s prediction； followed that young
gentleman down the stairs to breakfast。
“Come near the fire； Noah；” said Charlotte。 “I saved a nice little
bit of bacon for you from master’s breakfast。 Oliver； shut that door
at Mister Noah’s back； and take them bits that I’ve put out on the
cover of the bread…pan。 There’s your tea； take it away to that box
and drink it there； and make haste； for they’ll want you to mind
the shop。 D’ye hear？”
“D’ye hear； Work’us？” said Noah Claypole。
“Lor； Noah！” said Charlotte； “what a rum creature you are！
Why don’t you let the boy alone？”
“Let him alone！” said Noah。 “Why everybody lets him alone
enough； for the matter of that。 Neither his father nor his mother
will ever interfere with him。 All his relations let him have his own
way pretty well。 Eh； Charlotte？ He！ he！ he！”
“Oh； you queer soul！” said Charlotte； bursting into a hearty
laugh； in which she was joined by Noah； after which they both
looked scornfully at poor Oliver Twist； as he was shivering on the
box in the coldest corner of the room； and ate the stale pieces
which had been specially reserved for him。
Noah was a charity…boy； but not a workhouse orphan。 No
chance—child was he； for he could trace his genealogy all the way
back to his parents； who lived hard by； his mother being a
washerwoman； and his father a drunken soldier； discharged with a
wo