old woman who ‘looked after’ them, was very experienced. She knew what was good for children, and a full stomach was very dangerous to their health. She also knew what was good for herself, so she kept for her own use the money that she was given for the children’s food. The board responsible for the orphans sometimes checked on the health of the children, but they always sent the beadle, a kind of local policeman, to announce their visit the day before. So whenever the board arrived, of course, the children were always neat and clean.
This was the way Oliver was brought up. Consequently, at the age of nine he was a pale, thin child and short for his age. But despite frequent beatings by Mrs Mann, his spirit was strong, which was probably the reason why he managed to reach the age of nine at all.
On Oliver’s ninth birthday, Mr Bumble the beadle came to the house to see 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.
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