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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Оливер Твист
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- Стр. 47/420
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He
had
been
crouching
on
the
step
for
some
time
:
wondering
at
the
great
number
of
public-houses
(
every
other
house
in
Barnet
was
a
tavern
,
large
or
small
)
,
gazing
listlessly
at
the
coaches
as
they
passed
through
,
and
thinking
how
strange
it
seemed
that
they
could
do
,
with
ease
,
in
a
few
hours
,
what
it
had
taken
him
a
whole
week
of
courage
and
determination
beyond
his
years
to
accomplish
:
when
he
was
roused
by
observing
that
a
boy
,
who
had
passed
him
carelessly
some
minutes
before
,
had
returned
,
and
was
now
surveying
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
of
close
observation
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
addressed
this
inquiry
to
the
young
wayfarer
,
was
about
his
own
age
:
but
one
of
the
queerest
looking
boys
that
Oliver
had
even
seen
.
He
was
a
snub-nosed
,
flat-browed
,
common-faced
boy
enough
;
and
as
dirty
a
juvenile
as
one
would
wish
to
see
;
but
he
had
about
him
all
the
airs
and
manners
of
a
man
.
He
was
short
of
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
--
and
would
have
done
so
,
very
often
,
if
the
wearer
had
not
had
a
knack
of
every
now
and
then
giving
his
head
a
sudden
twitch
,
which
brought
it
back
to
its
old
place
again
.
He
wore
a
man
's
coat
,
which
reached
nearly
to
his
heels
.
He
had
turned
the
cuffs
back
,
half-way
up
his
arm
,
to
get
his
hands
out
of
the
sleeves
:
apparently
with
the
ultimated
view
of
thrusting
them
into
the
pockets
of
his
corduroy
trousers
;
for
there
he
kept
them
.
He
was
,
altogether
,
as
roystering
and
swaggering
a
young
gentleman
as
ever
stood
four
feet
six
,
or
something
less
,
in
the
bluchers
.
'
Hullo
,
my
covey
!
What
's
the
row
?
'
said
this
strange
young
gentleman
to
Oliver
.
'
I
am
very
hungry
and
tired
,
'
replied
Oliver
:
the
tears
standing
in
his
eyes
as
he
spoke
.
'
I
have
walked
a
long
way
.
I
have
been
walking
these
seven
days
.
'
'
Walking
for
sivin
days
!
'
said
the
young
gentleman
.
'
Oh
,
I
see
.
Beak
's
order
,
eh
?
But
,
'
he
added
,
noticing
Oliver
's
look
of
surprise
,
'
I
suppose
you
do
n't
know
what
a
beak
is
,
my
flash
com-pan-i-on
.
'
Oliver
mildly
replied
,
that
he
had
always
heard
a
bird
's
mouth
described
by
the
term
in
question
.
'
My
eyes
,
how
green
!
'
exclaimed
the
young
gentleman
.
'
Why
,
a
beak
's
a
madgst
'
rate
;
and
when
you
walk
by
a
beak
's
order
,
it
's
not
straight
forerd
,
but
always
agoing
up
,
and
niver
a
coming
down
agin
.
Was
you
never
on
the
mill
?
'
'
What
mill
?
'
inquired
Oliver
.
