12 At the Courthouse

CHAPTER 12 At the Court house Dodger and Charley ran straight back to Fagin. They told the old man of Oliver's arrest. "They grabbed him right in the street," Dodger said. "There was nothing we could do." Fagin was furious. He jumped up and yelled at the boys. "Why weren't you watching him? Do you know what this means?" Fagin pounded his fist on the table. "What if he talks to the police? What if he tells them where we live?"

Dodger and Charley tried to make excuses but Fagin would not listen. "Dodger!" he yelled. "Get to the courthouse right now. Come back and report everything that is said." "Right-o, Fagin," Dodger said. "I won't let you down." Dodger raced out the door. The courthouse was packed with people. Dodger found a seat in the back and waited for Oliver's turn before the judge. He noticed Mr. Brownlow seated a few rows ahead. Dodger sank down in his chair hoping that the old gentleman would not recognize him. Finally Oliver was brought out. He was very pale and looked ready to faint. The guard put him in the prisoner's box. Oliver was so small that the judge could not see him over the railing. "Give the prisoner a crate to stand on," the judge yelled. The entire courtroom was

buzzing with excitement. Many members of the crowd that chased Oliver were there to see his sentencing. They weren't used to adventures in the middle of the afternoon. "How can anyone expect me to work in these conditions?" the judge said. He was often confused by his hectic courtroom. It put him in a very foul mood. He had a very short attention span and paid little mind to detail. Needless to say, the judge was not very good at his job. "What's your name?" the judge asked Oliver. Oliver tried to speak but he was too scared. He was still dizzy from his fall on the sidewalk. There were so many people around him and everyone seemed to be shouting. He whispered his name to the guard. "Oliver Twist," said the guard. "Oliver what?" the judge asked. "Did you

say 'Twist'? What kind of name is Twist?" The guard read out the charges against Oliver. He pointed to Mr. Brownlow, saying that he was the victim of the robbery. Oliver looked up from the prisoner's box and whispered for a drink of water. "Don't be silly," the judge said. "Do you think this is a restaurant?" The guard looked at Oliver. "Sir, I think the boy might really be ill," he said. "I could

quickly grab him a drink." "Nonsense! My day is too busy for such delays." The judge pounded his gavel on the desk. "Does the victim have anything to say?" Mr. Brownlow stood up. He looked to Oliver, wishing he could help. "Only that I think the boy should be given water. Whether or not he's a thief, he's still a young boy." The judge pounded his gavel again. "I've already given my answer regarding the water. Let's move along." Oliver heard very little of this conversation. He was becoming light-headed. The room started to spin around him. Finally he collapsed, falling off the crate and onto the floor of the prisoner's box. The guard rushed to help him. "Enough of this," said the judge. "The prisoner is sentenced to three months of hard

labor. Guard, take him away." "I won't allow it," shouted Mr. Brownlow. "This boy is ill. He needs a doctor, not a jail sentence." "If you speak against me one more time," the judge said to Mr. Brownlow, "you'll receive a sentence of your own." The door to the courtroom suddenly flew open. The owner of the bookstore where Mr. Brownlow was shopping came in. He rushed to the front of the room. "This boy is innocent," he exclaimed. "I saw the whole thing from inside my shop. It was two other boys who stole the wallet. This boy was only standing nearby." "But I've already sentenced the Twist boy," the judge whined. "Why didn't you come sooner?" "I needed someone to watch my shop," the bookseller said. "I only got away a few minutes ago."