Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens Page A

saw at once that Mr. Gamfield was exactly the sort of master Oliver Twist wanted. Mr. Gamfield smiled, too, as he perused the document; for five pounds was just the sum he had been wishing for; and, as to the boy with which it was encumbered, Mr. Gamfield, knowing what the dietary of the workhouse was, well knew he would be a nice small pattern, just the very thing for register stoves. So, he spelt the bill through again, from beginning to end; and then, touching his fur cap in token of humility, accosted the gentleman in the white waistcoat.
    “This here boy, sir, wot the parish wants to ‘prentis,” said Mr. Gamfield.
    “Ay, my man,” said the gentleman in the white waistcoat, with a condescending smile. “What of him?”
    “If the parish vould like him to learn a light pleasant trade, in a good ‘spectable chimbley-sweepin’ bisness,” said Mr. Gamfield, “I wants a ’prentis, and I am ready to take him.”
    “Walk in,” said the gentleman in the white waistcoat. Mr. Gamfield having lingered behind, to give the donkey another blow on the head, and another wrench of the jaw, as a caution not to run away in his absence, followed the gentleman with the white waistcoat into the room where Oliver had first seen him.
    “It’s a nasty trade,” said Mr. Limbkins, when Gamfield had again stated his wish.
    “Young boys have been smothered in chimneys before now,” said another gentleman.
    “That’s acause they damped the straw afore they lit it in the chimbley to make ‘em come down again,” said Gamfield; “that’s all smoke, and no blaze, vereas smoke ain’t o’ use at all in making a boy come down, for it only sinds him to sleep, and that’s wot he likes. Boys is wery obstinit, and wery lazy, gen’lmen, and there’s nothink like a good hot blaze to make ‘em come down with a run. It’s humane too, gen’lmen, acause, even if they’ve stuck in the chimbley, roasting their feet makes ‘em struggle to hextricate theirselves.”
    The gentleman in the white waistcoat appeared very much amused by this explanation; but his mirth was speedily checked by a look from Mr. Limbkins. The board then proceeded to converse among themselves for a few minutes, but in so low a tone, that the words “saving of expenditure,” “looked well in the accounts,” “have a printed report published,” were alone audible. These only chanced to be heard, indeed, on account of their being very frequently repeated with great emphasis.
    At length the whispering ceased; and the members of the board, having resumed their seats and their solemnity, Mr. Limbkins said:
    “We have considered your proposition, and we don’t approve of it.”
    “Not at all,” said the gentleman in the white waistcoat.
    “Decidedly not,” added the other members.
    As Mr. Gamfield did happen to labour under the slight imputation of having bruised three or four boys to death already, it occurred to him that the board had, perhaps, in some unaccountable freak, taken it into their heads that this extraneous circumstance ought to influence their proceedings. It was very unlike their general mode of doing business, if they had; but still, as he had no particular wish to revive the rumour, he twisted his cap in his hands, and walked slowly from the table.
    “So you won’t let me have him, gen‘lmen?” said Mr. Gamfield, pausing near the door.
    “No,” replied Mr. Limbkins; “at least, as it’s a nasty business, we think you ought to take something less than the premium we offered.”
    Mr. Gamfield’s countenance brightened as, with a quick step, he returned to the table and said:
    “What’ll you give, gen‘lmen? Come! Don’t be too hard on a poor man. What’ll you give?”
    “I should say, three pound ten was plenty,” said Mr. Limbkins.
    “Ten shillings too much,” said the gentleman in the white waistcoat.
    “Come!” said Gamfield; “say four pound, gen‘lmen. Say four pound, and you’ve got rid on him for good and all.