ear.

"He called my mother names," replied Oliver.

"Well, and what if he did, you little ungrateful wretch?" said Mrs.
Sowerberry. "She deserved what he said, and worse."

"She didn't," said Oliver.

"She did," said Mrs. Sowerberry.

"It's a lie!" said Oliver.

Mrs. Sowerberry burst into a flood of tears.

This flood of tears left Mr. Sowerberry nothing else to do; so he at
once gave Oliver a drubbing, which satisfied even Mrs. Sowerberry
herself. For the rest of the day he was shut up in the backs kitchen, in
company with a pump and a slice of bread; and, at night, Mrs.
Sowerberry, after making various remarks outside the door, by no means
kind to the memory of his mother, looked into the room, and, amidst the
jeers and pointings of Noah and Charlotte, ordered him up-stairs to his
dismal bed.

It was not until he was left alone in the silence and stillness of the
gloomy workshop of the undertaker that Oliver gave way to the feelings
which the day's treatment may be supposed likely to have awakened in a
mere child. He had listened to their taunts with a look of contempt; he
had borne the lash without a cry; for he felt that pride swelling in his
heart which would have kept down a shriek to the last, though they had
roasted him alive. But now, when there was none to see or hear him, he
fell upon his knees on the floor; and, hiding his face in his hands,
wept bitter tears and prayed in his bleeding heart that God would help
him to get away from these cruel people. There, upon his knees, Oliver
determined to run away, and, rising, tied up a few clothes in a
handkerchief and went to bed.

With the first ray of light that struggled through the crevices in the
shutters, Oliver arose and unbarred the door. One timid look around--one
moment's pause of hesitation--he had closed it behind him, and was in
the open street.

He looked to the right and to the left, uncertain which way to fly. He
remembered to have seen the wagons, as they went out, toiling up the
hill. He took the same route; and arriving at a foot-path across the
fields, which he knew, after some distance, led out again into the road,
struck into it, and walked quickly on.

Along this same foot-path, Oliver well remembered he had trotted beside
Mr. Bumble when he first carried him to the workhouse from the farm. His
heart beat quickly when he bethought himself of this, and he half
resolved to turn back. He had come a long way though, and should lose a