Oliver Twist. Charles Dickens

Mrs Mann. Through the front window Mrs Mann saw him at the gate, and turned quickly to the girl who worked with her.

      ‘Quick! Take Oliver and those others upstairs to be washed!’ she said. Then she ran out to unlock the gate. (It was always kept locked to prevent official visitors walking in unexpectedly.)

      ‘I have business to talk about,’ Mr Bumble told Mrs Mann as he entered the house. He was a big fat man, often bad-tempered, and was full of self-importance. He did not like to be kept waiting at a locked gate.

      Mrs Mann took his hat and coat, placed a chair for him, and expressed great concern for his comfort. ‘You’ve had a long walk, Mr Bumble,’ she said, ‘and you must be thirsty.’ She took out a bottle from the cupboard.

      ‘No, thank you, Mrs Mann. Not a drop.’ He waved the bottle away.

      ‘Just a little drop, Mr Bumble, with cold water,’ said Mrs Mann persuasively.

      Mr Bumble coughed. ‘What is it?’ he asked, looking at the bottle with interest.

      ‘Gin. I keep it for the children’s medicine drink.’

      ‘You give the children gin, Mrs Mann?’ asked Mr Bumble, watching as she mixed his drink.

      ‘Only with medicine, sir. I don’t like to see them suffer.’

      ‘You’re a good woman, Mrs Mann.’ Mr Bumble drank half his glass immediately. ‘I’ll tell the board about you. Now – the reason why I’m here. Oliver Twist is nine years old today. We’ve never been able to discover anything about his parents.’

      ‘Then how did he get his name?’

      ‘I gave it to him,’ said Mr Bumble proudly. ‘We follow the alphabet. The last one was an S – Swubble. Then it was T, so this one is Twist. The next one will be Unwin. Anyway, Oliver Twist is now old enough to return to the workhouse. Bring him here, please.’ While Mrs Mann went to get him, Mr Bumble finished the rest of his gin.