I saw him hesitate.

He is deceiving you, my good friend.' 'I'll swear he is not,' replied Mr.Brownlow, warmly.
'If he is not,' said Mr.Grimwig, 'I'll--' and down went the stick.
'I'll answer for that boy's truth with my life!' said Mr.Brownlow, knocking the table.
'And I for his falsehood with my head!' rejoined Mr.Grimwig, knocking the table also.
'We shall see,' said Mr.Brownlow, checking his rising anger.
'We will,' replied Mr.Grimwig, with a provoking smile; 'we will.' As fate would have it, Mrs.Bedwin chanced to bring in, at this moment, a small parcel of books, which Mr.Brownlow had that morning purchased of the identical bookstall-keeper, who has already figured in this history; having laid them on the table, she prepared to leave the room.
'Stop the boy, Mrs.Bedwin!' said Mr.Brownlow; 'there is something to go back.' 'He has gone, sir,' replied Mrs.Bedwin.
'Call after him,' said Mr.Brownlow; 'it's particular.

He is a poor man, and they are not paid for.

There are some books to be taken back, too.' The street-door was opened.

Oliver ran one way; and the girl ran another; and Mrs.Bedwin stood on the step and screamed for the boy; but there was no boy in sight.