'That was the fever, my dear,' said the old lady mildly.。， As the Jew uttered these words, his bright dark eyes, which hadbeen staring vacantly before him, fell on Oliver's face; theboy's eyes were fixed on his in mute curiousity; and although therecognition was only for an instant--for the briefest space oftime that can possibly be conceived--it was enough to show theold man that he had been observed.
'Why, what the blazes is in the wind now!' growled a deep voice.'Who pitched that 'ere at me? It's well it's the beer, and notthe pot, as hit me, or I'd have settled somebody. I might haveknow'd, as nobody but an infernal, rich, plundering, thunderingold Jew could afford to throw away any drink but water--and notthat, unless he done the River Company every quarter. Wot's itall about, Fagin? D--me, if my neck-handkercher an't lined withbeer! Come in, you sneaking warmint; wot are you stoppingoutside for, as if you was ashamed of your master! Come in!'。，
'Why, sure you're not afraid of it?' said the old lady: observingin great surprise, the look of awe with which the child regardedthe painting.。， 'Oh no, no,' returned Oliver quickly; 'but the eyes look sosorrowful; and where I sit, they seem fixed upon me. It makes myheart beat,' added Oliver in a low voice, 'as if it was alive,and wanted to speak to me, but couldn't.'
。， Make 'em your models,' tapping the fire-shovel on the hearth toadd force to his words; 'do everything they bid you, and taketheir advice in all matters--especially the Dodger's, my dear.He'll be a great man himself, and will make you one too, if youtake pattern by him.--Is my handkerchief hanging out of mypocket, my dear?' said the Jew, stopping short.
Oliver wondered what picking the old gentleman's pocket in play,had to do with his chances of being a great man. But, thinkingthat the Jew, being so much his senior, must know best, hefollowed him quietly to the table, and was soon deeply involvedin his new study.。，
。， But the old gentleman was not the only person who raised thehue-and-cry. The Dodger and Master Bates, unwilling to attractpublic attention by running down the open street, had merelyretured into the very first doorway round the corner. They nosooner heard the cry, and saw Oliver running, than, guessingexactly how the matter stood, they issued forth with greatpromptitude; and, shouting 'Stop thief!' too, joined in thepursuit like good citizens.
The street-door was opened. Oliver ran one way; and the girl rananother; and Mrs. Bedwin stood on the step and screamed for theboy; but there was no boy in sight. Oliver and the girlreturned, in a breathless state, to report that there were notidings of him.。，
'Hush, my dear,' said the old lady softly. 'You must be veryquiet, or you will be ill again; and you have been very bad,--asbad as bad could be, pretty nigh. Lie down again; there's adear!' With those words, the old lady very gently placedOliver's head upon the pillow; and, smoothing back his hair fromhis forehead, looked so kindly and loving in his face, that hecould not help placing his little withered hand in hers, anddrawing it round his neck.。， 'Poor boy, poor boy!' said Mr. Brownlow, bending over him. 'Calla coach, somebody, pray. Directly!'