w, stopping
short.

"Yes, sir," said Oliver.

"See if you can take it out, without my feeling it, as you saw them do
when we were at play this morning."

Oliver held up the bottom of the pocket with one hand, as he had seen
the Dodger hold it, and drew the handkerchief lightly out with the
other.

"Is it gone?" cried the Jew.

"Here it is, sir," said Oliver, showing it in his hand.

"You're a clever boy, my dear," said the playful old gentleman, patting
Oliver on the head approvingly. "I never saw a sharper lad. Here's a
shilling for you. If you go on in this way, you'll be the greatest man
of the time. And now come here, and I'll show you how to take the marks
out of the handkerchief."

Oliver wondered what picking the old gentleman's pocket in play had to
do with his chances of being a great man. But, thinking that the Jew,
being so much older must know best, he followed him quietly to the
table, and was soon deeply at work in his new study.

For many days Oliver remained in the Jew's room, picking the marks out
of the pocket-handkerchiefs (of which a great number were brought home),
and sometimes taking part in the game already described, which the two
boys and the Jew played, regularly, every morning.

At length, one morning, Oliver obtained the permission to go out with
the boys. There had been no handkerchiefs to work upon for two or three
days, and the dinners had been rather meager. Perhaps these were reasons
for the old gentleman giving his assent; but, whether they were or no,
he told Oliver he might go, and placed him under the joint care of
Charley Bates and his friend, the Dodger.

The three boys started out; the Dodger with his coat-sleeves tucked up
and his hat cocked, as usual; Master Bates sauntering along with his
hands in his pockets; and Oliver between them, wondering where they were
going, and what they would teach him to make first.

They were just coming from a narrow court not far from an open square,
which is yet called "The Green," when the Dodger made a sudden stop,
and, laying his finger on his lip, drew his companions back again, with
the greatest caution.

"What's the matter?" demanded Oliver.

"Hush!" replied the Dodger. "Do you see that old cove at the
book-stall?"

"The old gentleman over the way?" said Oliver. "Yes, I see him."

"He'll do," said the Dodger.

"A prime plant," observed Master Charley Bates.

Oliver looked from one to the other with the greatest surp