They turned into no house at Shepperton, as the weary boy hadexpected; but still kept walking on, in mud and darkness, throughgloomy lanes and over cold open wastes, until they came withinsight of the lights of a town at no great distance. On lookingintently forward, Oliver saw that the water was just below them,and that they were coming to the foot of a bridge.。， 'At your service, ma'am,' said Mr. Bumble, who had been stoppingoutside to rub his shoes clean, and to shake the snow off hiscoat; and who now made his appearance, bearing the cocked hat inone hand and a bundle in the other. 'Shall I shut the door,ma'am?'
'I tried to get it down,' rejoined the other. 'But her teethwere tight set, and she clenched the mug so hard that it was asmuch as I could do to get it back again. So I drank it; and itdid me good!'。， The repetition of the word, brought Toby to a dead stand-still.For he was not quite satisfied that he was beyond the range ofpistol-shot; and Sikes was in no mood to be played with.
。， It was a bare garret-room, with a dim light burning at thefarther end. There was another old woman watching by the bed;the parish apothecary's apprentice was standing by the fire,making a toothpick out of a quill.
At this moment the noise grew louder. Sikes, again lookinground, could discern that the men who had given chase werealready climbing the gate of the field in which he stood; andthat a couple of dogs were some paces in advance of them.。， 'How should I know, my dear?' replied the Jew, looking round ashe plied the bellows. 'About his losses, maybe; or the littleretirement in the country that he's just left, eh? Ha! ha! Isthat it, my dear?'
'The boy grew so like his mother,' said the woman, rambling on,and not heeding the question, 'that I could never forget it whenI saw his face. Poor girl! poor girl! She was so young, too!Such a gentle lamb! Wait; there's more to tell. I have not toldyou all, have I?'。， Near to the spot on which Snow Hill and Holborn Hill meet, opens,upon the right hand as you come out of the City, a narrow anddismal alley, leading to Saffron Hill. In its filthy shops areexposed for sale huge bunches of second-hand silk handkerchiefs,of all sizes and patterns; for here reside the traders whopurchase them from pick-pockets. Hundreds of these handkerchiefshang dangling from pegs outside the windows or flaunting from thedoor-posts; and the shelves, within, are piled with them.Confined as the limits of Field Lane are, it has its barber, itscoffee-shop, its beer-shop, and its fried-fish warehouse. It isa commercial colony of itself: the emporium of petty larceny:visited at early morning, and setting-in of dusk, by silentmerchants, who traffic in dark back-parlours, and who go asstrangely as they come. Here, the clothesman, the shoe-vamper,and the rag-merchant, display their goods, as sign-boards to thepetty thief; here, stores of old iron and bones, and heaps ofmildewy fragments of woollen-stuff and linen, rust and rot in thegrimy cellars.
'The child,' said the girl, suddenly looking up, 'is better wherehe is, than among us; and if no harm comes to Bill from it, Ihope he lies dead in the ditch and that his young bones may rotthere.'。， 'Ah! But it's not Phil Barker's time,' said the Jew, looking up.