Permission being granted him, he got up, walked across the room, and
stooped for an instant to raise the water-pitcher. When he turned his
head, the box was gone.
Presently the Dodger returned with a friend, Charley Bates, and the four
sat down to a breakfast of coffee, and some hot rolls, and ham, which the
Dodger had brought home in the crown of his hat.
"Well," said the Jew, "I hope you've been at work this morning, my dears?"
"Hard," replied the Dodger.
"As Nails," added Charley Bates.
"Good boys, good boys!" said the Jew. "What have _you_ got, Dodger?"
"A couple of pocket-books," replied the young gentleman.
"Lined?" inquired the Jew, with eagerness.
"Pretty well," replied the Dodger, producing two pocket-books.
"And what have you got, my dear?" said Fagin to Charley Bates.
"Wipes," replied Master Bates; at the same time producing four
pocket-handkerchiefs.
"Well," said the Jew, inspecting them closely; "they 're very good ones,
very. You haven't marked them well, though, Charley; so the marks shall be
picked out with a needle, and we'll teach Oliver how to do it. Shall us,
Oliver, eh?"
"If you please, sir," said Oliver.
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