At this confession, Miss Nancy burst into a loud laugh; and,swallowing a glass of brandy, shook her head with an air ofdefiance, and burst into sundry exclamations of 'Keep the gamea-going!' 'Never say die!' and the like. These seemed to havethe effect of re-assuring both gentlemen; for the Jew nodded hishead with a satisfied air, and resumed his seat: as did Mr. Sikeslikewise.。，
'Frighten him!' echoed Sikes. 'It'll be no sham frightening,mind you. If there's anything queer about him when we once getinto the work; in for a penny, in for a pound. You won't see himalive again, Fagin. Think of that, before you send him. Mark mywords!' said the robber, poising a crowbar, which he had drawnfrom under the bedstead.。，
'Aye, it is!' returned the girl; not speaking, but pouring outthe words in one continuous and vehement scream. 'It is myliving; and the cold, wet, dirty streets are my home; and you'rethe wretch that drove me to them long ago, and that'll keep methere, day and night, day and night, till I die!'。， 'I'm glad to hear it,' said Sikes, looking grimly at Oliver; 'forthe sake of his young carcase: as would otherways have sufferedfor it. Come here, young 'un; and let me read you a lectur',which is as well got over at once.'
Nancy quickly brought a bottle from a cupboard, in which therewere many: which, to judge from the diversity of theirappearance, were filled with several kinds of liquids. Sikespouring out a glass of brandy, bade the Jew drink it off.。，
。， Mr. Fagin was sufficiently well acquainted with the manners andcustoms of that particular species of humanity to which Nancybelonged, to feel tolerably certain that it would be ratherunsafe to prolong any conversation with her, at present. Withthe view of diverting the attention of the company, he turned toOliver.
。， The conversation proceeded no farther at this time, for the Jewhad returned home accompanied by Miss Betsy, and a gentleman whomOliver had never seen before, but who was accosted by the Dodgeras Tom Chitling; and who, having lingered on the stairs toexchange a few gallantries with the lady, now made hisappearance.
'Is Oliver a-bed? I want to speak to him,' was his first remarkas they descended the stairs.。， It would be tedious if given in the beadle's words: occupying,as it did, some twenty minutes in the telling; but the sum andsubstance of it was, that Oliver was a foundling, born of low andvicious parents. That he had, from his birth, displayed nobetter qualities than treachery, ingratitude, and malice. Thathe had terminated his brief career in the place of his birth, bymaking a sanguinary and cowardly attack on an unoffending lad,and running away in the night-time from his master's house. Inproof of his really being the person he represented himself, Mr.Bumble laid upon the table the papers he had brought to town.Folding his arms again, he then awaited Mr. Brownlow'sobservations.