06-02-雾都孤儿 [5]
night came，he spread his little hands over his eyes to shut out the darkness， and tried to sleep．He was given freezing water to wash with，and was beaten daily by Mr Bumble in front of all the other boys in the hall，as a warning to the m．
One day Mr Bumble met the local undertaker， Mr Sowerberry， outside the workhouse．
'Do you know anybody who wants to train a boy for work，Mr Sowerberry？'Mr Bumble pointed at the notice on the wall above him， which offered five pounds to anybody who would take O liver Twist for work．
Mr Sowerberry rubbed his chin and thought for a while． 'I pay enough for the poor with my taxes，' he said， 'so why shouldn't I be able to make use of the m in my work？ Yes， I'll take the boy myself．'
And so the board agreed to send O liver to work for the undertaker．The necessary papers were signed．O liver's small possessions were put into a brown paper parcel，and he was led to Mr Sowerberry's house by Mr Bumble．As They walked along，tears began to run down O liver's face．
'What is it this time？'asked Mr Bumble impatiently． 'Don't be so ungrateful．This gentleman is going to look after you.'
'It's just that I'm so lonely， sir！' said the child． 'Everybody hates me．Please don't be angry with me，sir！'
Even Mr Bumble felt a little pity. He coughed，told O liver to dry his eyes and be a good boy， and walked on with him in silence.
The undertaker had just finished work for the day when Mr Bumble entered his shop．
'Here，I've brought the boy，' said the beadle．
O liver bowed to the undertaker， who raised his candle to get a better view of the boy． 'Mrs Sowerberry，'he called， 'come and have a look．'
His wife， a short，thin woman with a disagreeable face，came out to see. 'He's very small，'she said immediately．
'He is，'agreed Mr Bumble， 'but he'll grow，Mrs Sowerberry.'
'Yes，'she said crossly， 'when he eats our food. Go on，get downstairs.' She pushed O liver downstairs into a damp，dark kitchen，and called to the girl working down the re. 'Here，Charlotte，give this boy some meat that the dog left-if he thinks it's good enough for him．'
O liver tore the meat to pieces with his teeth as if he were a wild animal. Mrs Sowerberry watched him in silent horror，already thinking about her future food bills，then took him upstairs to the shop．
'You'll sleep here， among the coffins，'she said.
O liver stared around the dark，airless shop at the coffins，some finished，some only half-made．He trembled at the thought of ghosts．His bed was a small hole in the floor，and looked very like a grave．
But it was not only the room that depressed O liver．He felt very lonely，with no friends and no one to care for him． As he lay on the bed，he found himself wishing that it really was his grave.
The next morning he was woken up by someone kicking at the shop door．
'Open the door，will you？'shouted a voice through the keyhole．
'Yes，sir.'
'I suppose you're the new boy，'said the voice through the keyhole． 'How old are you？'
'Ten， sir.'
'The n I'll hit you when I get in，'said the voice．
O liver was experienced enough to know that the promise was probably true． He opened the door with a shaking hand，the n looked up and down the street．All he could see was a large boy wearing the uniform of one of the charity schools，where the children of the very poor used to go．
'Did you want a coffin？'asked O liver，innocently．
The charity－boy looked at him fiercely． 'You'll be needing a coffin soon，Workhouse，if you make jokes like that！ I'm Mister Noah Claypole，and you're working under me．Now，hurry up and open the curtains！'As he said this， he kicked O liver and entered the shop．He was a big，clumsy boy of about fourteen， with a large head and very small eyes．Added to the se attractions were
One day Mr Bumble met the local undertaker， Mr Sowerberry， outside the workhouse．
'Do you know anybody who wants to train a boy for work，Mr Sowerberry？'Mr Bumble pointed at the notice on the wall above him， which offered five pounds to anybody who would take O liver Twist for work．
Mr Sowerberry rubbed his chin and thought for a while． 'I pay enough for the poor with my taxes，' he said， 'so why shouldn't I be able to make use of the m in my work？ Yes， I'll take the boy myself．'
And so the board agreed to send O liver to work for the undertaker．The necessary papers were signed．O liver's small possessions were put into a brown paper parcel，and he was led to Mr Sowerberry's house by Mr Bumble．As They walked along，tears began to run down O liver's face．
'What is it this time？'asked Mr Bumble impatiently． 'Don't be so ungrateful．This gentleman is going to look after you.'
'It's just that I'm so lonely， sir！' said the child． 'Everybody hates me．Please don't be angry with me，sir！'
Even Mr Bumble felt a little pity. He coughed，told O liver to dry his eyes and be a good boy， and walked on with him in silence.
The undertaker had just finished work for the day when Mr Bumble entered his shop．
'Here，I've brought the boy，' said the beadle．
O liver bowed to the undertaker， who raised his candle to get a better view of the boy． 'Mrs Sowerberry，'he called， 'come and have a look．'
His wife， a short，thin woman with a disagreeable face，came out to see. 'He's very small，'she said immediately．
'He is，'agreed Mr Bumble， 'but he'll grow，Mrs Sowerberry.'
'Yes，'she said crossly， 'when he eats our food. Go on，get downstairs.' She pushed O liver downstairs into a damp，dark kitchen，and called to the girl working down the re. 'Here，Charlotte，give this boy some meat that the dog left-if he thinks it's good enough for him．'
O liver tore the meat to pieces with his teeth as if he were a wild animal. Mrs Sowerberry watched him in silent horror，already thinking about her future food bills，then took him upstairs to the shop．
'You'll sleep here， among the coffins，'she said.
O liver stared around the dark，airless shop at the coffins，some finished，some only half-made．He trembled at the thought of ghosts．His bed was a small hole in the floor，and looked very like a grave．
But it was not only the room that depressed O liver．He felt very lonely，with no friends and no one to care for him． As he lay on the bed，he found himself wishing that it really was his grave.
The next morning he was woken up by someone kicking at the shop door．
'Open the door，will you？'shouted a voice through the keyhole．
'Yes，sir.'
'I suppose you're the new boy，'said the voice through the keyhole． 'How old are you？'
'Ten， sir.'
'The n I'll hit you when I get in，'said the voice．
O liver was experienced enough to know that the promise was probably true． He opened the door with a shaking hand，the n looked up and down the street．All he could see was a large boy wearing the uniform of one of the charity schools，where the children of the very poor used to go．
'Did you want a coffin？'asked O liver，innocently．
The charity－boy looked at him fiercely． 'You'll be needing a coffin soon，Workhouse，if you make jokes like that！ I'm Mister Noah Claypole，and you're working under me．Now，hurry up and open the curtains！'As he said this， he kicked O liver and entered the shop．He was a big，clumsy boy of about fourteen， with a large head and very small eyes．Added to the se attractions were