25 Oliver Twist - Read By Stephanie Poppins

Hello.

Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph,

Your go-to romantic podcast that guarantees you a calm and entertaining transition into a great night's sleep.

Come with me as we immerse ourselves in a romantic journey to a time long since forgotten.

But before we begin,

Let's take a moment to focus on where we are now.

Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.

Now close your eyes and feel yourself sink deeper into the support beneath you.

It is time to relax and fully let go.

There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.

Happy listening.

Chapter 25 Where in this history reverts to Mr Fagin and company.

While these things were passing in the country workhouse,

Mr Fagin sat in the old den,

The same from which Oliver had been removed by the girl,

Brooding over a dull,

Smoky fire.

He held a pair of bellows upon his knee,

With which he had apparently been endeavouring to rouse it into more cheerful action.

But he had fallen into deep thought,

And with his arms folded upon them and his chin resting on his thumbs,

Fixed his eyes abstractedly on the rusty bars.

At a table behind him sat the artful dodger,

Master Charles Bates and Mr Chitling,

All intent upon a game of whist,

The artful taking dummy against Master Bates and Mr Chitling.

The countenance of the first named gentleman,

Peculiarly intelligent at all times,

Acquired great additional interest from his close observance of the game and his attentive perusal of Mr Chitling's hand.

Upon which,

From time to time,

As occasion served,

He bestowed a variety of earnest glances,

Wisely regulating his own play by the result of his observations upon his neighbour's cars.

It being a cold night,

The dodger wore his hat,

As indeed was often his custom,

Within doors.

He also sustained a clay pipe between his teeth,

Which he only removed for a brief space,

When he deemed it necessary to apply for refreshment to a court pot upon the table,

Which stood ready-filled with gin and water for the accommodation of the company.

Master Bates was also attentive to the play,

But being of a more excitable nature than his accomplished friend,

It was observable that he more frequently applied himself to the gin and water,

And moreover indulged in many jests and irrelevant remarks,

All highly becoming a scientific rubber.

Indeed,

The artful,

Presuming upon their close attachment,

More than once took occasion to reason gravely with his companion upon these improprieties,

All of which remonstrances Master Bates received an extremely good part.

Merely requesting his friend to be blowed,

Or to insert his head in a sack,

Or replying with some other neatly turned witticism of similar kind,

The happy application of which excited considerable admiration in the mind of Mr Chitling.

It was remarkable the latter gentleman and his partner invariably lost,

And that the circumstance,

So far from angering Master Bates,

Appeared to afford him the highest amusement,

Inasmuch as he laughed most uproariously at the end of every deal,

And protested he had never seen such a jolly game in all his born days.

That's two doubles and the rub,

Said Mr Chitling with a very long face,

As he drew half a crown from his waistcoat pocket.

I've never seen such a fellow as you,

Jack.

You win everything,

Even when we're good at cards.

Charlie and I can't make nothing of him.

Either the master or the manner of his remark,

Which was made very ruefully,

Delighted Charlie Bates so much,

That his consequent shout of laughter roused the Jew from his reverie,

And induced him to enquire what was the matter.

Matter,

Fagin,

Cried Charlie.

I wish you'd watch the play.

Tommy Chitling hasn't won a point,

And I went partners with him against the artful and dumb.

Aye,

Aye,

Said the Jew with a grin,

Which sufficiently demonstrated that he was at no loss to understand the reason.

Try him again,

Tom,

Try him again.

No more of it for me,

Thank you,

Fagin,

Replied Mr Chitling.

I've had enough.

That ear-dodger's such a run of luck,

There's no standing against him.

Ha,

My dear,

Replied the Jew,

You must get up very early in the morning to win against that dodger.

Morning,

Said Charlie Bates,

You must put your boots on overnight and have a telescope at each eye and an opera glass between your shoulders if you want to come over him.

Mr Dawkins received these handsome compliments with much philosophy,

And offered to cut any gentleman in company for the first picture card at a shilling a time.

Nobody accepted the challenge,

And his pipe being by this time smoked out,

He proceeded to amuse himself by sketching a ground plan of Newgate on the table with a piece of chalk,

Which had served him in lieu of counters,

Whistling meantime with peculiar shrillness.

How precious dull you are,

Tommy,

Said the dodger,

Stopping short when they'd been in long silence and addressing Mr Chitling.

What do you think he's thinking,

Old Fagin?

How should I know,

My dear?

Replied the Jew,

Looking round as he plied the bellows.

About his losses,

Maybe,

Or the little retirement in the country he's just left,

Eh?

That's it,

Is it,

My dear?

Not a bit of it,

Replied the dodger,

Stopping the subject of discourse as Mr Chitling was about to reply.

What do you say,

Charlie?

I should say,

Replied Master Bates with a grin,

That he was uncommon sweet upon Betsy.

See how he's a-blushing?

Oh,

My eye!

Here's a merry-go-rounder.

Tommy Chitling's in love.

Old Fagin,

What a spree!

Thoroughly overpowered with the notion of Mr Chitling being the victim of a tender passion,

Master Bates threw himself back in his chair with such violence that he lost his balance and pitched over upon the floor,

Where,

The accident-debating nothing of his merriment,

He lay at full length until his laugh was over,

When he resumed his former position and began another laugh.

Never mind him,

My dear,

Said the Jew,

Winking up at Mr Dawkins and giving Master Bates a reproving tap with a nozzle of the bellows.

Betsy's a fine girl.

Stick up to her,

Tom.

Stick up to her.

What I mean to say,

Fagin,

Replied Mr Chitling,

Very red in the face,

Is that that isn't anything to anybody here.

No more it is,

Replied the Jew.

Charlie will talk.

Don't mind him,

My dear,

Don't mind him.

Betsy's a fine girl.

Do as she bids you,

Tom,

And it'll make your fortune.

So I do do as she bids me,

Replied Mr Chitling.

I shouldn't have been milled if I hadn't been for her advice.

But it turned out a good job for you,

Didn't it,

Fagin?

And what's six weeks of it?

It must come sometime or another.

And why not in the wintertime when you don't want to go out walking so much,

Eh,

Fagin?

To be sure,

My dear,

Replied the Jew.

You wouldn't mind it again,

Tom,

Would you?

Asked the Dodger,

Winking upon Charlie and the Jew.

If Bet was all right?

I mean to say that I shouldn't,

Replied Tom,

Angrily.

You'll say as much as that,

I'd like to know,

Eh,

Fagin?

Nobody,

My dear,

Replied the Jew.

What a soul,

Tom.

I don't know one of them who'd do it besides you,

Not one,

My dear.

I might have got clear off if I'd have split upon her,

Mightn't I,

Fagin?

Angrily pursued the poor half-witted Jew.

A word from me would have done it,

Wouldn't it,

Fagin?

To be sure it would,

My dear,

Replied the Jew.

But I didn't blab it,

Did I?

No,

No,

To be sure.

A deal too stout-hearted for that.

A deal too stout-hearted,

My dear.

Perhaps I was,

Rejoined Tom.

And what's to laugh at that,

Eh,

Fagin?

The Jew,

Perceiving that Mr Chitling was considerably roused,

Hastened to assure him that nobody was laughing.

And to prove the gravity of the company,

Appealed to master Bates,

The principal offender.

But unfortunately,

Charlie,

In opening his mouth to reply he was never more serious in his life,

Was unable to prevent the escape of such a violent roar that the abused Mr Chitling rushed across the room and aimed a full blow at the offender,

Who,

Being skilful in evading pursuit,

Ducked to avoid it,

And chose his time so well that it lighted on the chest of the merry old gentleman and caused him to stagger against the wall.

Hark!

Cried the Dodger at this moment.

I heard the tinkler.

He crept softly upstairs.

The bell was rung again,

With some impatience this time.

It was the housebreaker,

Toby Crackett,

Dressed in an old frock.

He looked tired and worn,

But there was the same complacent repose upon his features that they always wore.

And through dirt and beard and whisker,

There still shone,

Unimpaired,

The self-satisfied smirk that he was so well known for.

So,

He began,

How's Bill?

What?

Screamed the Jew,

Starting from his seat.

Why,

You don't mean to say.

.

.

Toby turned pale.

Mean?

Cried the Jew,

Stamping furiously on the ground.

Where are they?

Sykes and the boy,

Where are they?

Where have they been?

Where are they hiding?

Why have they not been here?

The crack failed,

Said Toby faintly.

I knew it,

Replied the Jew,

Tearing a newspaper from his pocket and pointing to it.

What more?

They fired and hit the boy.

We cut over the fields at the back with in between us,

Straight as the crow flies through hedge and ditch.

They gave chase.

Damn,

The whole country was awake and the dogs upon us.

The boy!

Bill had him on his back and scudded like the wind.

We stopped to take him between us.

His head hung down and he was cold.

They were close upon our heels,

Every man for himself and each for the gallows.

We parted company and left the youngster lying in a ditch.

Alive or dead,

That's all I know about him.

The Jew then stopped to hear no more,

But uttering a loud yell and twining his hands in his hair,

He rushed from the room and out of the house.