was compelled to leave Oliver in a
ditch and make his escape with his friend Crackit.

It was morning when Oliver awoke. His left arm was rudely bandaged in a
shawl, and the bandage was saturated with blood. Weak and dizzy, he yet
felt that if he remained where he was he would surely die, and so he
staggered to his feet. The only house in sight was the one he had
entered a few hours earlier, and he bent his steps towards it. He pushed
against the garden-gate--it was unlocked. He tottered across the lawn,
climbed the steps, knocked faintly at the door, and, his whole strength
failing him, sank down against the little portico.

Mr. Giles, the butler and general steward of the house, who had fired
the shot and led the pursuit, was just explaining the exciting events of
the night to his fellow-servants of the kitchen when Oliver's knock was
heard. With considerable reluctance the door was opened, and then the
group, peeping timorously over each other's shoulders, beheld no more
formidable object than poor little Oliver Twist, speechless and
exhausted.

"Here he is!" bawled Giles. "Here's one of the, thieves, ma'am! Wounded,
miss! I shot him!"

They lugged the fainting boy into the hall, and then in the midst of all
the noise and commotion, there was heard a sweet and gentle voice, which
quelled it in an instant.

"Giles!" whispered the voice from the stairhead. "Hush! You frighten my
aunt as much as the thieves did. Is the poor creature much hurt?"

"Wounded desperate, miss," replied Giles.

After a hasty consultation with her aunt, the same gentle speaker bade
them carry the wounded person upstairs, and send to Chertsey at all
speed for a constable and a doctor. The latter arrived when the young
lady and her aunt, Mrs. Maylie, were at breakfast, and his visit to the
sick-room changed the state of affairs. On his return he begged Mrs.
Maylie and her niece to accompany him upstairs.

In lieu of the dogged, black-visaged ruffian they had expected to see,
there lay a mere child, sunk in a deep sleep.

The ladies could not believe this delicate boy was a criminal, and when,
on waking up, he told them his simple history, they were determined to
prevent his arrest.

The doctor undertook to save the boy, and to that end entered the
kitchen where Mr. Giles, Brittles, his assistant, and the constable were
regaling themselves with ale.

"How is the patient, sir?" asked Giles.

"So-so," returned the doctor. "I'm afraid