4 New friends

Chapter 4 New friends Oliver ran and ran until he came to a signpost. "I'll walk to London," he decided. "Perhaps I can make a better life for myself there." He walked ten miles a day. At night he hid in hay barns and woke each morning aching and weak with hunger. The nights were worst, because there was nothing around him but darkness and loneliness.

At last he reached the city. His sore feet were bleeding and his clothes were worn to shreds. He watched people jostling around market stalls and shops, so busy that no one noticed him.

He collapsed on a cold doorstep, too exhausted to beg. Delicious smells floated by from a bakery. Oliver staggered up to the window, where shelves groaned with piles of freshly-made bread, cakes, buns and pies. He stared at them longingly. A boy about the same age, with sharp eyes and a swaggering walk, strolled over. "Hungry?" he asked. "Very," gasped Oliver.

To Oliver's astonishment, the boy pulled a wad of money out of his pocket. "I'll get you something. Wait here. The boy returned with a bag crammed with hot meat pies. "I'm Dodger," said the boy, as Oliver gobbled the food. "You?" "Oliver Twist." "Got a bed tonight, Oliver?" "No."

"Got any family?" "No one at all." "I know a kind gentleman who'll take you in. He won't want any rent, either. "That's generous!" exclaimed Oliver. He followed Dodger down a maze of narrow alleys, where foul smells filled the air and swarms of ragged urchins played in slimy, oozing gutters. Men and women staggered around, cursing loudly.

It looked so dirty, Oliver almost wished he hadn't come, but he had nowhere else to go. Finally, they reached a crumbling house. Dodger led him up a rickety staircase to a dark room. Through a cloud of sizzling fumes, Oliver spied a gnarled old man. He was wearing a grubby blue coat and frying sausages over the fire.