Oliver Twist (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Charles Dickens [171]
“What’s the matter here, my dear?” said Fagin, looking in.
“Lend a hand to the girl, can’t you?” replied Sikes impatiently. “Don’t stand chattering and grinning at me!”
With an exclamation of surprise, Fagin hastened to the girl’s assistance, while Mr. John Dawkins (otherwise the Artful Dodger), who had followed his venerable friend into the room, hastily deposited on the floor a bundle with which he was laden; and snatching a bottle from the grasp of Master Charles Bates who came close at his heels, uncorked it in a twinkling with his teeth, and poured a portion of its contents down the patient’s throat: previously taking a taste, himself, to prevent mistakes.
“Give her a whiff of fresh air with the bellows, Charley,” said Mr. Dawkins; “and you slap her hands, Fagin, while Bill undoes the petticuts.”
These united restoratives, administered with great energy: especially that department consigned to Master Bates, who appeared to consider his share in the proceedings, a piece of unexampled pleasantry: were not long in producing the desired effect. The girl gradually recovered her senses; and staggering to a chair by the bedside, hid her face upon the pillow: leaving Mr. Sikes to confront the new-comers, in some astonishment at their unlooked-for appearance.
“Why, what evil wind has blowed you here?” he asked Fagin.
“No evil wind at all, my dear, for evil winds blow nobody any good; and I’ve brought something good with me, that you’ll be glad to see. Dodger, my dear, open the bundle; and give Bill the little trifles that we spent all our money on, this morning.”
In compliance with Mr. Fagin’s request, the Artful untied his bundle, which was of large size, and formed of an old tablecloth; and handed the articles it contained, one by one, to Charley Bates: who placed them on the table, with various encomiums on their rarity and excellence.
“Sitch a rabbit pie, Bill,” exclaimed that young gentleman, disclosing to view a huge pasty; “sitch delicate creeturs, with sitch tender limbs, Bill, that the wery bones melt in your mouth, and there’s no occasion to pick ‘em; half a pound of seven and sixpenny green, so precious strong that if you mix it with biling water, it’ll go nigh to blow the lid of the tea-pot off; a pound and a-half of moist sugar that the niggers didn’t work at all at, afore they got it up to sitch a pitch of goodness,—oh no! Two half-quartern brans; pound of best fresh; piece of double Glo’ster; and, to wind up all, some of the richest sort you ever lushed!”
Uttering this last panegyric, Master Bates produced, from one of his extensive pockets, a full-sized wine-bottle, carefully corked; while Mr. Dawkins, at the same instant, poured out a wine-glassful of raw spirits from the bottle he carried: which the invalid tossed down his throat without a moment’s hesitation.
Mr. Fagin and his Pupils recovering Nancy
“Ah!” said Fagin, rubbing his hands with great satisfaction. “You’ll do, Bill; you’ll do now.”
“Do!” exclaimed Mr. Sikes; “I might have been done for, twenty times over, afore you’d have done anything to help me. What do you mean by leaving a man in this state, three weeks and more, you false-hearted wagabond?”
“Only hear him, boys!” said Fagin, shrugging his shoulders. “And us come to bring him all these beau-ti-ful things.”
“The things is well enough in their way,” observed Mr. Sikes: a little soothed as he glanced over the table; “but what have you got to say for yourself, why you should leave me here, down in the mouth, health, blunt, and everything else; and take no more notice of me, all this mortal time, than if I was that ’ere dog?—Drive him down, Charley!”
“I never see such a jolly dog as that,” cried Master Bates, doing as he was desired. “Smelling the grub like a old lady a going to market! He’d make his fortun on the stage that dog would, and rewive the drayma