Let me hear your story; where you come from; who brought you up; and how you got into the company in which I found you.

Speak the truth, and you shall not be friendless while I live.' Oliver's sobs checked his utterance for some minutes; when he was on the point of beginning to relate how he had been brought up at the farm, and carried to the workhouse by Mr.Bumble, a peculiarly impatient little double-knock was heard at the street-door: and the servant, running upstairs, announced Mr.Grimwig.
'Is he coming up ?' inquired Mr.Brownlow.
'Yes, sir,' replied the servant.

'He asked if there were any muffins in the house; and, when I told him yes, he said he had come to tea.' Mr.Brownlow smiled; and, turning to Oliver, said that Mr.Grimwig was an old friend of his, and he must not mind his being a little rough in his manners; for he was a worthy creature at bottom, as he had reason to know.
'Shall I go downstairs, sir ?' inquired Oliver.
'No,' replied Mr.Brownlow, 'I would rather you remained here.' At this moment, there walked into the room: supporting himself by a thick stick: a stout old gentleman, rather lame in one leg, who was dressed in a blue coat, striped waistcoat, nankeen breeches and gaiters, and a broad-brimmed white hat, with the sides turned up with green.

A very small-plaited shirt frill stuck out from his waistcoat; and a very long steel watch-chain, with nothing but a key at the end, dangled loosely below it.

The ends of his white neckerchief were twisted into a ball about the size of an orange; the variety of shapes into which his countenance was twisted, defy description.