Feebly raising himself in the bed, with his head resting on his trembling arm, he looked anxiously around.
'What room is this?
Where have I been brought to ?' said Oliver.

'This is not the place I went to sleep in.' He uttered these words in a feeble voice, being very faint and weak; but they were overheard at once.

The curtain at the bed's head was hastily drawn back, and a motherly old lady, very neatly and precisely dressed, rose as she undrew it, from an arm-chair close by, in which she had been sitting at needle-work.
'Hush, my dear,' said the old lady softly.

'You must be very quiet, or you will be ill again; and you have been very bad,--as bad as bad could be, pretty nigh.

Lie down again; there's a dear!' With those words, the old lady very gently placed Oliver's head upon the pillow; and, smoothing back his hair from his forehead, looked so kindly and loving in his face, that he could not help placing his little withered hand in hers, and drawing it round his neck.
'Save us!' said the old lady, with tears in her eyes.