Оливер Твист

Chapter 7

           ‘Ain’tyouafraidofit,sir?Ain’tyoua-tremblingwhileIspeak,sir?’saidMr.Bumble.

           ‘No!’repliedOliver,boldly.

           Ananswersodifferentfromtheonehehadexpectedtoelicit,andwasinthehabitofreceiving,staggeredMr.Bumblenotalittle.Hesteppedbackfromthekeyhole;drewhimselfuptohisfullheight;andlookedfromonetoanotherofthethreebystanders,inmuteastonishment.

           ‘Oh,youknow,Mr.Bumble,hemustbemad,’saidMrs.Sowerberry.

           ‘Noboyinhalfhissensescouldventuretospeaksotoyou.

           ‘It’snotMadness,ma’am,’repliedMr.Bumble,afterafewmomentsofdeepmeditation.‘It’sMeat.

           ‘What?’exclaimedMrs.Sowerberry.

           ‘Meat,ma’am,meat,’repliedBumble,withsternemphasis.‘You’veover-fedhim,ma’am.You’veraisedaartificialsoulandspiritinhim,ma’amunbecomingapersonofhiscondition:astheboard,Mrs.Sowerberry,whoarepracticalphilosophers,willtellyou.Whathavepauperstodowithsoulorspirit?It’squiteenoughthatwelet’emhavelivebodies.Ifyouhadkepttheboyongruel,ma’am,thiswouldneverhavehappened.

           ‘Dear,dear!’ejaculatedMrs.Sowerberry,piouslyraisinghereyestothekitchenceiling:‘thiscomesofbeingliberal!’

           TheliberalityofMrs.SowerberrytoOliver,hadconsistedofaprofusebestowaluponhimofallthedirtyoddsandendswhichnobodyelsewouldeat;

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