oah began to talk about his mother.

"Work'us," said Noah, "how's your mother?" Noah had given Oliver this
name because he had come from the workhouse.

"She's dead," replied Oliver; "don't you say anything about her to me!"

Oliver's color rose as he said this; he breathed quickly; and there was
a curious working of the mouth and nostrils, which Noah thought must be
the immediate precursor of a violent fit of crying. Under this
impression he returned to the charge.

"What did she die of, Work'us?" said Noah.

"Of a broken-heart, some of our old nurses told me," replied Oliver:
more as if he were talking to himself than answering Noah. "I think I
know what it must be to die of that!"

"Tol de rol lol lol, right fol lairy, Work'us," said Noah, as a tear
rolled down Oliver's check. "What's set you a sniveling now?"

"Not _you_," replied Oliver, hastily brushing the tear away. "Don't
think it."

"Oh, not me, eh?" sneered Noah.

"No, not you," replied Oliver, sharply.

"There, that's enough. Don't say anything more to me about her; you'd
better not!"

"Better not!" exclaimed Noah. "Well! Better not! Work'us, don't be
impudent. _Your_ mother, too! She was a nice 'un, she was. Oh, Lor'!"
And here Noah nodded his head expressively and curled his small red
nose.

"Yer know, Work'us," continued Noah, emboldened by Oliver's silence, and
speaking in a jeering tone of affected pity. "Yer know, Work'us, it
can't be helped now; and of course yer couldn't help it then. But yer
must know, Work'us, yer mother was a regular-down bad 'un."

"What did you say?" inquired Oliver, looking up very quickly.

"A regular right-down bad'un, Work'us," replied Noah, coolly. "And it's
a great deal better, Work'us, that she died when she did, or else she'd
have been hard laboring in the jail, or sent out of the country, or
hung; which is more likely than either, isn't it?"

Crimson with fury, Oliver started up; overthrew the chair and table;
seized Noah by the throat; shook him, in the violence of his rage, till
his teeth chattered in his head; and, collecting his whole force into
one heavy blow, felled him to the ground.

A minute ago, the boy had looked the quiet, mild, dejected creature that
harsh treatment had made him. But his spirit was roused at last; the
cruel insult to his dead mother had set his blood on fire. His breast
heaved; his form was erect; his eye bright and vivid; his whole person
changed, as he stood glaring ov