"Certainly, my dear,—certainly," replied the old gentleman. "Stay. There s a pitcher of water in the corner by the door. Bring it here, and I 'll give you a basin to wash in, my dear."
Oliver got up, walked across the room, and stooped for one instant to raise the pitcher. When he turned his head, the box was gone.
He had scarcely washed himself and made everything tidy by emptying the basin out of the window, agreeably to the Jew's directions, than the Dodger returned, accompanied by a very sprightly young friend whom Oliver had seen smoking on the previous night, and who was now formally introduced to him as Charley Bates. The four sat down to breakfast upon the coffee and some hot rolls and ham which the Dodger had brought home in the crown of his hat.
"Well," said the Jew, glancing slyly at Oliver, and addressing himself to the Dodger, "I hope you've been at work this morning, my dears."
"Hard," replied the Dodger.
