The room in which the boys were fed, was a large, stone hall, with a
copper at one end, out of which the master, dressed in an apron for
the purpose, and assisted by one or two women, ladled the gruel at
meal-times; of which composition each boy had one porringer, and no
more,--except on festive occasions, and then 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 nearly as large as the bowls), they would sit staring at the
copper with such eager eyes as if they could devour the very bricks
of which it was composed; employing themselves meanwhile in sucking
their fingers most assiduously, with the view of catching up any
stray splashes of gruel that might have been cast thereon. Boys have
generally excellent appetites: Oliver Twist and his companions suffered
the tortures of slow starvation for three months; at last they got so
voracious and wild with hunger, that one boy, who was tall for his age,
and hadn't been used to that sort of thing, (for his father had kept a
small cook's shop,) hinted darkly to his companions, that unless he had
another basin of gruel _per diem_, he was afraid he should some night
eat the boy who slept next him, who happened to be a weakly youth of
tender age. He had a wild, hungry eye, and they implicitly believed him.
A council was held; lots were cast who should walk up to the master
after supper that evening, and ask for more; and it fell to Oliver Twist.
The evening arrived: the boys took their places; the master in his
cook's uniform stationed himself at the copper; his pauper assistants
ranged themselves behind him; the gruel was served out, and a long grace
was said over the short commons. The gruel disappeared, and 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, basin and spoon in
hand, to the master, said, somewhat alarmed at his own temerity--
"Please, sir, I want some more."
The master was a fat, healthy man, but he turned very pale. He gazed in
stupified astonishment on the small rebel for some seconds, and then
clung for support to the copper. The assistants were paralyzed with
wonder, and the boys with fear.
"What!" said the master at length, in a faint voice.
"Please, sir," replied Oliver, "I want some more."
The master aimed a blow at Oliver's head with the ladle, pinioned him in
his arms, shrieked aloud for the beadle.
The board were sitting in solemn conclave 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." There was a general start. Horror was depicted on every
countenance.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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