OLIVER CONTINUES REFRACTORY Noah Claypole ran along the streets at his swiftest pace, and paused not once for breath, until he reached the workhouse-gate.

Having rested here, for a minute or so, to collect a good burst of sobs and an imposing show of tears and terror, he knocked loudly at the wicket; and presented such a rueful face to the aged pauper who opened it, that even he, who saw nothing but rueful faces about him at the best of times, started back in astonishment.
'Why, what's the matter with the boy!' said the old pauper.
'Mr.Bumble! Mr.Bumble!' cried Noah, with well-affected dismay: and in tones so loud and agitated, that they not only caught the ear of Mr.
Bumble himself, who happened to be hard by, but alarmed him so much that he rushed into the yard without his cocked hat,--which is a very curious and remarkable circumstance: as showing that even a beadle, acted upon a sudden and powerful impulse, may be afflicted with a momentary visitation of loss of self-possession, and forgetfulness of personal dignity.
'Oh, Mr.Bumble, sir!' said Noah: 'Oliver, sir,--Oliver has--' 'What?
What ?' interposed Mr.Bumble: with a gleam of pleasure in his metallic eyes.

'Not run away; he hasn't run away, has he, Noah ?' 'No, sir, no.

Not run away, sir, but he's turned wicious,' replied Noah.

'He tried to murder me, sir; and then he tried to murder Charlotte; and then missis.