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Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens
page 68 of 666 (10%)
'Poor fellow!' said Mrs. Sowerberry: looking piteously on the
charity-boy.

Noah, whose top waistcoat-button might have been somewhere on a
level with the crown of Oliver's head, rubbed his eyes with the
inside of his wrists while this commiseration was bestowed upon
him, and performed some affecting tears and sniffs.

'What's to be done!' exclaimed Mrs. Sowerberry. 'Your master's
not at home; there's not a man in the house, and he'll kick that
door down in ten minutes.' Oliver's vigorous plunges against the
bit of timber in question, rendered this occurance highly
probable.

'Dear, dear! I don't know, ma'am,' said Charlotte, 'unless we
send for the police-officers.'

'Or the millingtary,' suggested Mr. Claypole.

'No, no,' said Mrs. Sowerberry: bethinking herself of Oliver's
old friend. 'Run to Mr. Bumble, Noah, and tell him to come here
directly, and not to lose a minute; never mind your cap! Make
haste! You can hold a knife to that black eye, as you run along.
It'll keep the swelling down.'

Noah stopped to make no reply, but started off at his fullest
speed; and very much it astonished the people who were out
walking, to see a charity-boy tearing through the streets
pell-mell, with no cap on his head, and a clasp-knife at his eye.

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