I will be good, sir!" he said. "I am a very little boy and it is so - so - lonely! Please don't be angry with me, sir!" To Mr Bumble's surprise, Oliver had tears in his eyes. He told the boy not to complain, to dry his eyes and to be good. He took Oliver's hand, and they continued walking in silence.
Mr Sowerberry had closed the shop, and he was writing by the light of a candle when they arrived.
"Here, Mr Sowerberry, I have brought the boy," said Mr Bumble. Oliver bowed.
"Oh, that is the boy, is it?" said Mr Sowerberry. "Mrs Sowerberry, come here, my dear." A short thin woman with a narrow face came out from a little room behind the shop. "My dear," said Mr Sowerberry, "this is the boy from the workhouse that I told you about."
Oliver bowed again.
"Oh!" said the woman. "He is very small."
"Yes, he is rather small!" said Mr Bumble. "But he will grow, Mrs Sowerberry, he will grow."
"Yes, I expect he will," said the lady angrily, "on our food and our drink. Here, get downstairs, you little bag of bones. you can have some of the cold meat that we saved for the dog. The dog hasn't come home since this morning."
Mrs Sowerberry opened a door and pushed Oliver down some stairs into a dark room.
Oliver's eyes shone at the thought of meat. They gave him a plate of the dog's food, and he ate very quickly. Mrs Sowerberry was not pleased that he was so enthusiastic.
"Come with me," she said, taking a dirty lamp and leading him upstairs again. "Your bed is in the shop."
Oilver was left alone in the shop. He was alone in a strange place. He climbed quickly into his narrow bed and fell asleep.