"Did you want a coffin, sir?" inquired Oliver, innocently.
At this the charity-boy looked monstrous fierce, and said that Oliver would stand in need of one before long, if he cut jokes with his superiors in that way.
"Yer don't know who I am, I suppose, Work'us?" said the charity-boy, in continuation; descending from the top of the post, meanwhile, with edifying gravity.
"No, sir," rejoined Oliver.
"I'm Mister Noah Claypole," said the charity-boy, "and you're under me. Take down the shutters, yer idle young ruffian!" With this, Mr. Claypole administered a kick to Oliver, and entered the shop with a dignified air, which did him great credit. It is difficult for a large-headed, small-eyed youth, of lumbering make and heavy countenance, to look dignified under any circumstances; but it is more especially so, when superadded to these personal attractions, are a red nose and yellow smalls.
Oliver having taken down the shutters, and broken a pane of glass in his efforts to stagger
