"Ha! ha!" roared Mr. Claypole, kicking up his legs in an ecstasy. "Lord, that's the very thing!"
"To be sure it is," replied Fagin; "and you can have a few good beats chalked out in Camden-town, and Battle-bridge, and neighbour hoods like that, where they're always going errands, and upset as many kinchins as you want any hour in the day. Ha! ha! ha!"
With this Fagin poked Mr. Claypole in the side, and they joined in a burst of laughter both long and loud.
"Well, that's all right!" said Noah, when he had recovered himself, and Charlotte had returned. "What time to-morrow shall we say?"
"Will ten do?" asked the Jew, adding, as Mr. Claypole nodded assent, "What name shall I tell my good friend?"
"Mr. Bolter," replied Noah, who had prepared himself for such an emergency. "Mr. Morris Bolter. This is Mrs. Bolter."
"Mrs. Bolter's humble servant," said Fagin,
