ondon; and that there were ways of living in that vast
city which those who had been bred in the country parts had no idea of.
It was the very place for a homeless boy, who must die in the streets
unless some-one helped him. As these things passed through his
thoughts, he jumped upon his feet and again walked forward.

He had made the distance between himself and London less by full four
miles more, before he thought how much he must undergo ere he could hope
to reach the place toward which he was going. As this consideration
forced itself upon him, he slackened his pace a little, and meditated
upon his means of getting there. He had a crust of bread, a coarse
shirt, and two pairs of stockings in his bundle. He had a penny too--a
gift of Sowerberry's after some funeral in which he had acquitted
himself more than ordinarily well--in his pocket. "A clean shirt,"
thought Oliver, "is a very comfortable thing; and so are two pairs of
darned stockings; and so is a penny; but they are small helps to a
sixty-five miles' walk in winter-time."

Thus day after day the weary but plucky little boy walked on, and early
on the seventh morning after he had left his native place, Oliver limped
slowly into the little town of Barnet, and sat down on a doorstep to
rest. Some few stopped to gaze at Oliver for a moment or two, or turned
round to stare at him as they hurried by; but none helped him, or
troubled themselves to inquire how he came there. He had no heart to
beg. And there he sat for some time when he was roused by observing
that a boy was watching him most earnestly from the opposite side of the
way. He took little heed of this at first; but the boy remained in the
same attitude so long that Oliver raised his head and returned his
steady look. Upon this, the boy crossed over, and, walking close up to
Oliver, said:

"Hullo, my covey! What's the row?"

The boy who had spoken to the young wayfarer was about his own age: but
one of the queerest-looking boys that Oliver had ever seen. He was a
snub-nosed, flat-browed, common-faced boy enough; and as dirty a youth
as one would wish to see; but he had about him all the airs and manners
of a man. He was short for his age; with rather bow-legs, and little,
sharp, ugly eyes. His hat was stuck on the top of his head so lightly
that it threatened to fall off every moment. He wore a man's coat, which
reached nearly to his heels.

"Hullo, my covey! What's the row?" said the stranger.

"