rkhouse gate.

"Why, what's the matter with the boy!" said the people as Noah rushed
up.

"Mr. Bumble! Mr. Bumble!" cried Noah, with well-pretended alarm. "Oh,
Mr. Bumble, sir! Oliver, sir--Oliver has--"

"What? What?" interposed Mr. Bumble, with a gleam of pleasure in his
steel-like eyes. "Not run away; he hasn't run away, has he, Noah?"

"No, sir, no! Not run away, sir, but he's turned wicious," replied Noah.
"He tried to murder me, sir; and then he tried to murder Charlotte; and
then missis. Oh! what dreadful pain it is! Such agony, please, sir!" And
here Noah writhed and twisted his body into an extensive variety of
eel-like positions, by which the gentleman's notice was very soon
attracted; for he had not walked three paces, when he turned angrily
round and inquired what that young cur was howling for.

"It's a poor boy from the free-school, sir," replied Mr. Bumble, "who
has been nearly murdered--all but murdered, sir--by young Twist."

"By Jove!" exclaimed the gentleman in the white waistcoat, stopping
short. "I knew it! I felt from the very first that that terrible young
savage would come to be hung!"

"He has likewise attempted, sir, to murder the female servant," said Mr.
Bumble, with a face of ashy paleness.

"And his missis," interposed Noah.

"And his master, too. I think you said, Noah?" added Mr. Bumble.

"No! he's out, or he would have murdered him," replied Noah. "He said he
wanted to."

"Ah! Said he wanted to, did he, my boy?" inquired the gentleman in the
white waistcoat.

"Yes, sir. And please, sir," replied Noah, "missis wants to know whether
Mr. Bumble can spare time to step up there, directly, and flog
him--'cause master's out."

"Certainly, my boy; certainly," said the gentleman in the white
waistcoat, smiling benignly and patting Noah's head, which was about
three inches higher than his own. "You're a good boy--a very good boy.
Here's a penny for you. Bumble just step up to Sowerberry's with your
cane, and see what's to be done. Don't spare him, Bumble."

"No, I will not, sir," replied the beadle as he hurried away.

Meantime, Oliver continued to kick, with undiminished vigor, at the
cellar-door. The accounts of his ferocity, as related by Mrs. Sowerberry
and Charlotte, were of so startling a nature that Mr. Bumble judged it
prudent to parley before opening the door. With this view he gave a kick
at the outside, by way of prelude; and then, putting his mouth to the
keyhole, sa