9 At Fagin’s House

CHAPTER 9 At Fagin's House Oliver followed Dodger down dark and muddy London streets. All of the buildings they passed looked abandoned, although Oliver noticed candlelight in a few. For a moment, Oliver wondered if it was a good idea to follow this strange boy. Finally, Dodger stopped in front of an old rundown building. There was no glass in the windows and the stairs looked about to fall down. Dodger pulled Oliver into the hallway and quickly closed the door. He whistled softly

toward the end of the hall. A strange voice replied, "Hey now!" "It's Dodger and a new friend. We're coming in." Dodger walked down the hall and up the flight of stairs. Oliver, still clutching his bag, followed. He stepped carefully along the hallway. A boy sat at the top of the stairs. He was dirty and wearing clothes far too small for him. He looked Oliver in the eye but did not smile. "Is Fagin upstairs?" Dodger asked him. The boy nodded. Dodger and Oliver walked up to the next floor. They entered a large, messy room. Soot covered the walls and old blankets covered the open windows. Several boys lay around on piles of sacks that served as beds. Other boys were sitting around a table playing cards. An old man in a torn trench coat stood in the corner. He wore a widebrimmed black

hat and had a long red beard. He was cooking sausages with one hand and straightening laundry with the other. Several dozen handkerchiefs were drying on a clothesline near the fire. He turned to look at Dodger and Oliver as they entered. "Now, now, now," he said. "Who has the Dodger brought to see us? "Fagin," Dodger said. "May I introduce my new friend Oliver Twist." Dodger took off his hat and bowed toward Fagin, then Oliver. The boys at the table laughed as Oliver bowed in return. Fagin shoved one of the boys. "Charley Bates, be quiet! You don't know a gentleman when you see one." He turned to Oliver and performed a low, long bow. "It's an honor to meet you, Oliver Twist. Welcome to our home." "Thank you so much for letting me stay,

sir," Oliver said. "It's been days since I slept in a real bed." "And I'm sure it's been just as long since you had a real meal." Fagin smiled.

"Longer than you can imagine," Oliver replied. "Boys!" Fagin called. "Make room at the table for our new guest. Oliver will have our finest sausages tonight!" Charley and the other boys cleared a spot. They watched with envy as Fagin placed four large sausages on Oliver's plate. "Eat up my dear boy," Fagin said. While Oliver enjoyed his supper, Fagin pulled Dodger and Charley aside. The three had a long whispered conversation. They came back to the table when Oliver was done. Fagin told the rest of the boys to get their supper. They all rushed to the fire and fought over the remaining meat. "Oliver, my boy," Fagin said as he sat down, "Dodger here tells me you're out to seek your fortune. Do you have any idea what you might do?" "No, sir," Oliver said. "Do you have any

suggestions? I'm happy to try anything." "Very positive thinking," Dodger said. He slapped Oliver on the back. Charley burst out laughing. He stopped when Fagin kicked his leg under the table. "I'm sure that you could start by helping out around here," Fagin said. "We have many projects on the go." "Are you a laundry, sir?" Oliver asked. "A laundry?" Fagin was surprised by the boy's question. "Why would you think we're a... A-ha," he said. "You must be asking about our silk handkerchiefs drying by the fire." Oliver nodded. "We're in the business of, um, reselling used items." The old man went to the clothesline and brought back a handkerchief for Oliver to examine. "Do you notice the fancy stitching Oliver? Very fine craftsmanship. Unfortunately, there are a few mistakes. We