Upon this, the boy crossed over; and walking close up to Oliver, said, 'Hullo, my covey! What's the row ?' The boy who addressed this inquiry to the young wayfarer, was about his own age: but one of the queerest looking boys that Oliver had even seen.

He was a snub-nosed, flat-browed, common-faced boy enough; and as dirty a juvenile as one would wish to see; but he had about him all the airs and manners of a man.

He was short of his age: with rather bow-legs, and little, sharp, ugly eyes.

His hat was stuck on the top of his head so lightly, that it threatened to fall off every moment--and would have done so, very often, if the wearer had not had a knack of every now and then giving his head a sudden twitch, which brought it back to its old place again.

He wore a man's coat, which reached nearly to his heels.