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Oliver Asks for More
Oliver Twist questions the dietary restrictions of the establishment
Oliver Twist - Condensed from Chapter Two
Setup
Nine-year-old Oliver is a resident in the parish workhouse where the boys are "issued 3 meals of sparse gruel a day, with an onion twice a week, and one-half a ringlet on Sundays." The workhouse is run past Bumble the Beadle, Limbkins is Chairman of the Lath of Guardians for the workhouse.
Oliver Asks for More than by Harold Copping
The room in which the boys were fed, was a large stone hall, with a copper at ane stop: out of which the chief, dressed in an apron for the purpose, and assisted past one or 2 women, ladled the gruel at mealtimes. Of this festive composition each boy had 1 porringer, and no more than--except on occasions of great public rejoicing, when he had two ounces and a quarter of bread besides.
The bowls never wanted washing. The boys polished them with their spoons till they shone again; and when they had performed this operation (which never took very long, the spoons being nigh equally big as the bowls), they would sit staring at the copper, with such eager optics, as if they could take devoured the very bricks of which it was composed; employing themselves, meanwhile, in sucking their fingers nearly assiduously, with the view of communicable upward any devious splashes of gruel that might accept been bandage thereon. Boys have generally excellent appetites. Oliver Twist and his companions suffered the tortures of slow starvation for three months: at last they got and then voracious and wild with hunger, that one male child, who was alpine for his age, and hadn't been used to that sort of thing (for his father had kept a small melt-shop), hinted darkly to his companions, that unless he had another basin of gruel per diem, he was agape he might some night happen to eat the boy who slept next him, who happened to be a weakly youth of tender age. He had a wild, hungry center; and they implicitly believed him. A council was held; lots were cast who should walk up to the main later on supper that evening, and ask for more than; and it fell to Oliver Twist.
The evening arrived; the boys took their places. The principal, in his cook's uniform, stationed himself at the copper; his pauper administration ranged themselves behind him; the gruel was served out; and a long grace was said over the brusque commons. The gruel disappeared; the boys whispered each other, and winked at Oliver; while his next neighbours nudged him. Child as he was, he was desperate with hunger, and reckless with misery. He rose from the table; and advancing to the main, basin and spoon in hand, said: somewhat alarmed at his own temerity:
'Please, sir, I want some more than.'
The master was a fatty, healthy homo; but he turned very pale. He gazed in stupified astonishment on the modest rebel for some seconds, and then clung for support to the copper. The assistants were paralysed with wonder; the boys with fear.
'What!' said the primary at length, in a faint vox.
'Please, sir,' replied Oliver, 'I want some more.'
The chief aimed a blow at Oliver's head with the ladle; pinioned him in his arm; and shrieked aloud for the beadle.
The board were sitting in solemn caucus, when Mr Bumble rushed into the room in great excitement, and addressing the gentleman in the high chair, said,
'Mr Limbkins, I beg your pardon, sir! Oliver Twist has asked for more!'
In that location was a general first. Horror was depicted on every countenance.
'For More!' said Mr Limbkins. 'Compose yourself, Bumble, and answer me distinctly. Do I sympathise that he asked for more, after he had eaten the supper allotted by the dietary?'
'He did, sir,' replied Bumble.
'That male child will be hung,' said the gentleman in the white waistcoat. 'I know that boy volition be hung.'
Nobody controverted the prophetic gentleman's stance. An animated discussion took place. Oliver was ordered into instant confinement; and a beak was next morning pasted on the exterior of the gate, offer a reward of 5 pounds to anybody who would take Oliver Twist off the easily of the parish. In other words, five pounds and Oliver Twist were offered to whatsoever man or adult female who wanted an apprentice to any trade, business, or calling.
'I never was more convinced of anything in my life,' said the admirer in the white waistcoat, as he knocked at the gate and read the pecker next morning: 'I never was more convinced of annihilation in my life, than I am that that male child will come to be hung.'
Equally I purpose to show in the sequel whether the white waistcoated gentleman was right or non, I should perhaps mar the involvement of this narrative (supposing information technology to possess any at all), if I ventured to hint just however, whether the life of Oliver Twist had this violent termination or no.
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