“Another orphan brat,” raged Mr. Bumble, when he saw the baby. “Who is he anyway?”
“Who knows?” Mrs. Mann yawned. “His mother walked in yesterday off the street. She must have walked some distance-her shoes were worn out. Good looking girl,too.”
“He must have a name…” Mr. Bumble thought hard. “Wall, I name all orphans alphabetically and the last one was Smith, so he can be Twist. Oliver Twist.”