CHAPTER III

A Chimney-sweep Offers to Take Oliver

For weeks after committing the crime of asking for more, Oliver remained a prisoner in the dark and lonely room to which he had been sent as punishment by the board. But let it not be supposed by the enemies of "the system" that Oliver, while a prisoner, was denied the benefit of exercise, or the pleasure of society. As for exercise, it was nice cold weather, and he was allowed to wash himself every morning under the pump, in a stone yard, in the presence of Mr. Bumble, who prevented his catching cold, and caused a warm feeling to go through his body, by a repeated use of the stick. As for society, he was carried every other day into the hall where the boys dined, and there publicly beaten as a warning and example.

It chanced one morning that Mr. Gamfield, a chimney-sweep, went his way down the High Street, deeply thinking of how to pay certain rents he owed to his landlord. Passing the workhouse, his eyes fell on the notice on the gate. He walked up to the gate to read it.

One of the gentlemen on the board was standing at the gate. The chimney sweep, observing him, told him that he wanted an apprentice and was ready to take the boy offered. The gentleman ordered him to walk in and he took him to Mr. Limbkins.

The bargain was made. Mr. Bumble was at once instructed that Oliver Twist and papers of his apprenticeship were to be taken before the magistrate, for approval, that very afternoon.

On his way to the magistrate, Mr. Bumble instructed Oliver that all he would have to do would be to look very happy, and say, when the gentleman asked him if he wanted to be apprenticed, that he should like it very much indeed.

Presently they arrived at the office and appeared before the magistrate, an old gentleman with a pair of eye-glasses.

"This is the boy, your worship," said Mr. Bumble. "Bow to the magistrate, my dear."

Oliver made his best bow.

"Well," said the old gentleman. "I suppose he's fond of chimney-sweeping?"

"He's very fond of it, your worship," replied Bumble, giving Oliver a pinch.

"And he will be a sweep, will he?" inquired the old gentleman.

"If he was to be apprenticed to any other trade tomorrow, he'd run away, your worship," replied Bumble.

"And this man that's to be his master—you, sir—you'll treat him well, and feed him, and do all that sort of thing, will you?" said the old gentleman.

"When I say I will, I mean I will," replied Mr. Gamfield roughly.

"You're a rough speaker, my friend, but you look an honest, open-hearted man," said the old gentleman, turning his eye-glasses in the direction of Gamfield, on whose face cruelty was clearly stamped. But the magistrate was half blind, so he couldn't reasonably be expected to see what other people saw.

The magistrate fixed his eye-glasses more firmly on his nose, and began to look about him for the inkpot.

It was the critical moment of Oliver's fate. If the inkpot had been where the old gentleman thought it was, he would have been led away at once. But as it chanced to be immediately under his nose, he looked all over his desk for it, without finding it; and happening in the course of his search to look straight before him, his gaze met the pale and frightened face of Oliver Twist, who was regarding the fearful face of his future master with a mixture of horror and fear.

The old gentleman stopped, laid down his pen, and looked from Oliver to Mr. Bumble.

"My boy!" said the old gentleman, leaning over the desk, "you look pale and alarmed. What is the matter? Stand a little way from him, Mr. Bumble. Now, boy, tell us what's the matter: don't be afraid."

Oliver fell on his knees, and joining his hands together, prayed the magistrate that he would order him back to the dark room—starve him—beat him—kill him if he liked—rather than send him away with that dreadful man.

"Well! " said Mr. Bumble, raising his hands and eyes in a very solemn manner, "Well! of all the cunning orphans that I have ever seen, you are one of the most shameless."

"Hold your tongue," said the magistrate. "I refuse to sign these papers," pushing them aside as he spoke. "Take the boy back to the workhouse, and treat him kindly. He seems to need it."

The next morning the public were once more informed that Oliver Twist was again to let, and that five pounds would be paid to anybody who would take possession of him.