5 Betrayed

Chapter 5 Betrayed The gentleman spun around, realizing he'd been robbed. "STOP THIEF!" he yelled at Oliver. Oliver looked for Dodger but he'd vanished. Panicking, Oliver raced off, followed by every man and woman in the street.

"STOP THIEF!" they shouted, chasing him helter-skelter through mud and puddles, throwing sticks and stones at his scrawny back. Oliver, breathless, kept running until a stone struck his head. He fell down, stunned. "Please sir," he whispered, as the gentleman reached him. "I'm not a thief."

The gentleman stared at him. "Hmm... Well, you look honest. Indeed, you look like—" He stopped, puzzled. "I'm sure I know that face," he murmured. "Get the police," said a passer-by. "No. He deserves a chance," replied the gentleman. "Who are you, boy? My name's Brownlow. Perhaps I can help you. Come with me."

Mr. Brownlow took Oliver to his grand house. In the hallway was a portrait of a beautiful girl. Oliver stopped and stared at it, drinking it in. "That was my niece, Agnes," said Mr. Brownlow. "She had a sad life. I wish she'd come to me for help. She must be dead now, poor girl." He looked at the portrait, then at Oliver. "I can't believe it," he muttered. "The likeness is extraordinary... Where were you born?" he asked urgently.

"In Mr. Bumble's workhouse," Oliver replied, surprised at the sudden question. "Yes, I've heard of it," said Mr. Brownlow, nodding and looking grim. "Now, tell me about yourself." Oliver recounted his life story, up until the moment he ran from the bookshop. "I believe you," said Mr. Brownlow. He put his hands on Oliver's shoulders and looked down at him. "Would you like to live here and go to school?" "Really?" gasped Oliver. "Truly?" Mr. Brownlow laughed. "I'll have Mrs. Bedwin, my housekeeper, show you to your room."

"You poor child," sighed Mrs. Bedwin, as she took Oliver upstairs. "So dirty and ragged. Have a hot bath and I'll get you some clean clothes." Lying in bed that night Oliver had never felt happier. And, as the weeks passed, he grew happier still. Mrs. Bedwin looked after him, from a good breakfast each morning to a hug last thing at night. Mr. Brownlow played games with him, shared his books and taught him chess and music.