launched into a glowing description of the numerous pleasures incidental to the life they led, interspersed with a variety of hints to Oliver that the best thing he could do, would be to secure Fagin’s favour without more delay, by the means which they themselves had employed to gain it.
“And always put this in your pipe, Nolly,” said the Dodger, as the Jew was heard unlocking the door above, “if you don’t take fogels and tickers—”
“What’s the good of talking in that way?” interposed Master Bates; “he don’t know what you mean.”
“If you don’t take pocket-handkechers and watches,” said the Dodger, reducing his conversation to the level of Oliver’s capacity, “some other cove will; so that the coves that lose ’em will be all the worse, and you’ll be all the worse, too, and nobody half a ha’p’orth the better, except the chaps wot gets them—and you’ve just as good a right to them as they have.”
“To be sure, to be sure!” said the Jew, who had entered, unseen by Oliver. “It all lies in a nutshell, my dear; in a nutshell, take the Dodger’s word for it. Ha! ha! ha! He understands the catechism of his trade.”
The old man rubbed his hands gleefully together, as he corroborated the Dodger’s reasoning in these terms; and chuckled with delight at his pupil’s proficiency.
The conversation proceeded no farther at this time, for the Jew had returned home accompanied by Miss Betsy, and a gentleman whom Oliver had never seen before, but who was accosted by the Dodger as Tom Chitling; and who, having lingered on the stairs to exchange a few gallantries with the lady, now made his appearance.