Mr. Bentley

“ Ain't you a-trembling while I speak, sir?" said Mr. Bumble.
"No!" replied Oliver, boldly.
An answer so different from the one he had expected to elicit, and was in the habit of receiving, staggered Mr. Bumble not a little. He stepped back from the keyhole, drew himself up to his full height, and looked from one to another of the three bystanders in mute astonishment.
"Oh, you know, Mr. Bumble, he must be mad," said Mrs. Sowerberry. "No boy in half his senses could venture to speak so to you."
"It's not madness, ma'am," replied Mr. Bumble, after a few moments of deep meditation; "it's meat." ”

“ Bentley, who sat on a green bench under a tree, his hat and stick on the grass beside him. She was unaware that he had been looking at her.
"Aren't they having a good time!" she said, and the genuine thrill in her voice betrayed a rare and unmistakable pleasure.
"Ah," replied Mr. Bentley, smiling back at her, "you like to see them, too. Most persons do. Children are not meant for the city, my dear young lady, their natural home is in the woods and fields, and these little fellows are a proof of it. When they come out here, they run wild. ”

“ I must speak of George Bentley before I [Pg 231] conclude; and, to answer your inquiry in the first instance, I am wholly unconscious of any ground for his uncle's apprehensions, though had I been aware of any such before we set out, I should not have consented to his being of our Killarney party; however, as Mr. Bentley followed us, my anxiety was removed. The young man is a fine and uncommon character: you shall have a sketch of it as far as I can trace its peculiarities. ”

“ His high-boned Quixotic face wore a pleasant smile, his rough tweed clothes, his hair and short mustache were tolerably untidy.
"Cupples, by all that's miraculous!" cried the man, pouncing upon Mr. Cupples before he could rise, and seizing his outstretched hand in a hard grip. "My luck is serving me to-day," the newcomer went on spasmodically. "This is the second slice within an hour. How are you, my best of friends? And why are you here? Why sit'st thou by that ruined breakfast? ”

“ Bumble rushed into the room in great excitement, and addressing the gentleman in the high chair, said,—
"Mr. Limbkins, I beg your pardon, sir;—Oliver Twist has asked for more." There was a general start. Horror was depicted on every countenance.
"For more!" said Mr. Limbkins. "Compose yourself, Bumble, and answer me distinctly. Do I understand that he asked for more, after he had eaten the supper allotted by the dietary?"
"He did, sir," replied Bumble.
"That boy will be hung," said the gentleman in the white waistcoat; "I know that boy will be hung." ”

“ Bentley says he’ll stock it up for you with chickens and such things, and that you shall never want for fruit, and vegetables, and feed, while he has any. My wife says she has a fine little pig for you, and Molly has a young heifer that she insists upon calling yours. So if you want to come down here and live among people that will always look out for you, you’ve but to say the word.”
Benny looked from one to the other, only saying, “Oh! oh, sir! Oh, Mr. Welch!”
“Yes,” put in Mr. Bentley, “we’ll look [Pg 101] out for you, my boy. It was a lucky day for us when you got left on that steamboat. ”

“ Oliver and his master returned to the miserable abode, where Mr. Bumble had already arrived, accompanied by four men from the workhouse, who were to act as bearers. An old black cloak had been thrown over the rags of the old woman and the man; the bare coffin having been screwed down, was then hoisted on the shoulders of the bearers, and carried down stairs into the street.
"Now, you must put your best leg foremost, old lady," whispered Sowerberry in the old woman's ear; "we are rather late, and it won't do to keep the clergyman waiting. Move on, my men,—as quick as you like." ”

“ Away and away the aeroplane shot, till it was nothing but a bright spark; an aspiration; a concentration; a symbol (so it seemed to Mr Bentley, vigorously rolling his strip of turf at Greenwich) of man’s soul; of his determination, thought Mr Bentley, sweeping round the cedar tree, to get outside his body, beyond his house, by means of thought, Einstein, speculation, mathematics, the Mendelian theory*—away the aeroplane shot. ”

“ Your wit, sir, will make your fortune. I am cracked, am I? I am always in hot water?" Then, changing his tone as he stalked from his chair to possess himself of his hat, he thundered out, "Mr. Samuel Winkings, no longer nephew of mine,—if a scurvy jest is all your sympathy for your invalid uncle, jeered at and parboiled by a rascally bath waiter, I wish you a very good morning!" ”

“ No sooner did horse, or gig, or carriage stop in the village, than dear Mr. George,—that is him that was with the doctor, you know, sir."
"Oh, his name was George too?"
"Yes, that it was, sir; and down here he would run as fast as legs [40] could carry him, and his first question was always, 'David, where is little Harri? Take her into the garden.' And here he would sit till the gentlefolks opposite were gone away. If ever one creature did dote upon another, Mr. George loved that sweet child. Ah! would to Heaven he had lived to make her his wife! ”

“ Bumble, stopping short, and darting at his little charge a look of intense malignity,—"well, of all the ungratefullest, and worst-disposed boys as ever I see, Oliver, you are the——"
"No, no, sir," sobbed Oliver, clinging to the hand which held the well-known cane; "no, no, sir; I will be good indeed; indeed, indeed, I will, sir! I am a very little boy, sir; and it is so—so—" [Pg 229]
"So what?" inquired Mr. Bumble in amazement.
"So lonely, sir—so very lonely," cried the child. "Everybody hates me. Oh! sir, don't be cross to me. ”

“ This of October 28th, 1892, forms the last of the batch of extracts placed in our hands. Throughout his business associations with Miss Corelli, it is apparent that Mr. Bentley was everything that was kindly, tactful, and encouraging. The imaginative temperament is always a difficult one to deal with, and Mr. Bentley excelled himself in this respect. ”

“ He flung a question, “anything of Bentley, Akers?”
“Mr. Bentley! Why, yes, sir. He was called to the telephone a few minutes ago and he left at once. Mr. Miller went with him, and Mr. Pitts.”
“Were Ashton and Reilly here then?” ”

“ I have not been so delighted for many years. To think," he reflected aloud as the waiter filled his glass, "of the Manderson mystery disposed of, the innocent exculpated, and your own and Mabel's happiness crowned—all coming upon me together! I drink to you, my dear friend." And Mr. Cupples took a very small sip of the wine.
"You have a great nature," said Trent, much moved. "Your outward semblance doth belie your soul's immensity. I should have expected as soon to see an elephant conducting at the opera as you drinking my health. Dear Cupples! ”

“ Sowerberry, deferentially, "this is the boy from the workhouse that I told you of." Oliver bowed again.
"Dear me!" said the undertaker's wife, "he's very small."
"Why, he is rather small," replied Mr. Bumble, looking at Oliver as if it were his fault that he wasn't bigger; "he is small,—there's no denying it. But he'll grow, Mrs. Sowerberry,—he'll grow."
"Ah! I dare say he will," replied the lady pettishly, "on our victuals, and our drink. I see no saving in parish children, not I; for they always cost more to keep, than they're worth: however, men always think they know best. ”

“ They'll never do anything with him, without stripes and bruises," said the gentleman in the white waistcoat.
"I'll take care, sir," replied the beadle. And, the cocked hat and cane having been by this time adjusted to their owner's satisfaction, Mr. Bumble and Noah Claypole betook themselves with all speed to the undertaker's shop.
Here the position of affairs had not at all improved, for Sowerberry had not yet returned, and Oliver continued to kick with undiminished vigour at the cellar-door. ”

“ She rose and went to an escritoire beside the window, unlocked a drawer, and drew out a long, sealed envelop.
"This is the manuscript you left with me," she said. "I have read it through again and again. I have always wondered, as everybody does, at your cleverness in things of this kind." A faintly mischievous smile flashed upon her face and was gone. "I thought it was splendid, Mr. Trent—I almost forgot that the story was my own, I was so interested. ”

“ Mann. That out-dacious Oliver has demoralised them all!"
"I couldn't have believed it, sir!" said Mrs. Mann, holding up her hands, and looking malignantly at Dick. "I never see such a hardened little wretch!"
"Take him away, ma'am!" said Mr. Bumble imperiously. "This must be stated to the board, Mrs. Mann."
"I hope the gentlemen will understand that it isn't my fault, sir?" said Mrs. Mann, whimpering pathetically.
"They shall understand that, ma'am; they shall be acquainted with the true state of the case," said Mr. Bumble pompously. "There; take him away. ”

“ She spoke the appropriate commonplace in a low and even voice. After a few words to Mr. Cupples she turned her eyes on Trent again.
"I hope you will succeed," she said earnestly. "Do you think you will succeed?"
He made his mind up as the words left her lips. He said: "I believe I shall do so, Mrs. Manderson. When I have the case sufficiently complete I shall ask you to let me see you and tell you about it. It may be necessary to consult you before the facts are published." ”

“ Trent got up at the same moment, and took his envelop from the table; his manner said that he perceived the interview to be at an end. But she held up a hand, and there was color in her cheeks and quick breathing in her voice as she said: "Do you know what you ask, Mr. Trent? You ask me if I perjured myself."
"I do," he answered unmoved; and he added after a pause: "You knew already that I had not come here to preserve the polite fictions, Mrs. Manderson. The theory that no reputable person, being on oath, could withhold a part of the truth under any circumstances is a polite fiction." ”

“ Sowerberry. "Your master's not at home—there's not a man in the house,—and he'll kick that door down in ten minutes." Oliver's vigorous plunges against the bit of timber in question rendered this occurrence highly probable.
"Dear, dear! I don't know, ma'am," said Charlotte, "unless we send for the police-officers."
"Or the millingtary," suggested Mr. Claypole.
"No, no," said Mrs. Sowerberry, bethinking herself of Oliver's old friend; "run to Mr. Bumble, Noah, and tell him to come here directly, and not to lose a minute; never mind your cap,—make haste. ”

“ Mann," he replied in a calmer tone; "it may be as you say; it may be. Lead the way in, Mrs. Mann; for I come on business, and have got something to say."
Mrs. Mann ushered the beadle into a small parlour with a brick floor, placed a seat for him, and officiously deposited his cocked hat and cane on the table before him. Mr. Bumble wiped from his forehead the perspiration which his walk had engendered, glanced complacently at the cocked hat, and smiled. Yes, he smiled: beadles are but men, and Mr. Bumble smiled. ”

“ He's just the boy for you. He wants the stick now and then; it'll do him good; and his board needn't come very expensive, for he hasn't been overfed since he was born. Ha! ha! ha!"
Mr. Gamfield gave an arch look at the faces round the table, and, observing a smile on all of them, gradually broke into a smile himself. The bargain was made, and Mr. Bumble was at once instructed that Oliver Twist and his indentures were to be conveyed before the magistrate for signature and approval, that very afternoon. ”

“ Speak the truth; and if I find you have committed no crime, you will never be friendless while I live."
Oliver's sobs quite checked his utterance for some minutes; and just when he was on the point of beginning to relate how he had been brought up at the farm, and carried to the workhouse by Mr. Bumble, a peculiarly impatient little double-knock was heard at the street-door, and the servant, running up stairs, announced Mr. Grimwig.
"Is he coming up?" inquired Mr. Brownlow.
"Yes, sir," replied the servant. ”

“ Bumble, sir!" said Noah; "Oliver, sir,—Oliver has——"
"What? what?" interposed Mr. Bumble, with a gleam of pleasure in his metallic eyes. "Not run away: he hasn't run away; has he, Noah?"
"No, sir, no; not run away, sir, but he's turned wicious," replied Noah. "He tried to murder me, sir; and then he tried to murder Charlotte, and then missis. Oh, what dreadful pain it is! such agony, please sir!" and here Noah writhed and twisted his body into an extensive variety of eel-like positions ”

“ Gamfield, "I wants a 'prentis, and I'm ready to take him."
"Walk in," said the gentlemen with the white waistcoat. And Mr. Gamfield having lingered behind, to give the donkey another blow on the head, and another wrench of the jaw as a caution not to run away in his absence, followed the gentleman with the white waistcoat, into the room where Oliver had first seen him.
"It's a nasty trade," said Mr. Limbkins, when Gamfield had again stated his wish.
"Young boys have been smothered in chimneys, before now," said another gentleman. ”

“ Brownlow bending over him. "Call a coach, somebody, pray, directly!"
A coach was obtained, and Oliver, having been carefully laid on one seat, the old gentleman got in and sat himself on the other.
"May I accompany you?" said the book-stall keeper looking in.
"Bless me, yes, my dear friend," said Mr. Brownlow quickly. "I forgot you. Dear, dear! I've got this unhappy book still. Jump in. Poor fellow! there's no time to lose."
The book-stall keeper got into the coach, and away they drove. ”