Oliver looked at Sikes in mute and timid wonder, and, drawing a stool to the fire, sat with his aching head upon his hands scarcely knowing where he was, or what was passing around him.
"Here," said Toby, as the young Jew placed some fragments of food and a bottle upon the table, "Success to the crack!" He rose to honour the toast, and, carefully depositing his empty pipe in a corner, advanced to the table, filled a glass with spirits, and drank off its contents. Mr. Sikes did the same.
"A drain for the boy," said Toby, half filling a wine-glass. "Down with it, innocence."
"Indeed," said Oliver, looking piteously up into the man's face; "indeed I"
"Down with it!" echoed Toby. "Do you think I don't know what's good for you? Tell him to drink it, Bill."
"He had better," said Sikes, clapping his hand upon his pocket. "Burn my body, if he isn't more trouble than a whole family of Dodgers. Drink it, you perwerse imp; drink it!"
