a threatening attitude.

"Upon my word I was not, sir," replied Oliver, earnestly. "I was not,
indeed, sir."

"Tush, tush, my dear!" said the Jew, abruptly resuming his old manner. "Of
course I know that, my dear, I only tried to frighten you. You're a brave
boy. Ha! ha! you're a brave boy, Oliver!"

The Jew rubbed his hands with a chuckle, but glanced uneasily at the box,
notwithstanding.

"Did you see any of these pretty things, my dear?" said the Jew.

"Yes, sir," replied Oliver.

"Ah!" said Fagin, turning rather pale. "They--they're mine, Oliver; my
little property. All I have to live upon in my old age. The folks call me
a miser, my dear. Only a miser; that's all."

Oliver thought the old gentleman must be a decided miser to live in such a
dirty place, with so many watches; but thinking that perhaps his fondness
for the Dodger and the other boys, cost him a good deal of money, he only
cast a deferential look at the Jew, and asked if he might get up.
Permission being granted him, he got up, walked across the room, and
stooped for an instant to raise the water-pitcher. When he turned his
head, the box was gone.

Presently the Dodger returned with a friend, Charley Bates, and the four
sat down to a breakfast of coffee, and some hot rolls, and ham, which the