It was late morning when Oliver awoke from a long, sound sleep. There was no one else in the room except Fagin, who was boiling some coffee in a pot for breakfast. The old man was whistling to himself as he stirred the coffee round and round with an iron spoon.
Fagin stopped to listen whenever he heard the smallest sound downstairs. But once he was satisfied no one was there, he went back to stirring and whistling. Oliver watched Fagin through half-closed eyes as he drifted in and out of sleep.
When the coffee was done, Fagin turned around.
"Oliver!" he called softly.
Oliver didn't respond, pretending to be asleep. Fagin stepped gently to the door and latched it. Then he pulled a small box from a trapdoor in the floor. Dragging an old chair to the table, he sat down and opened the box.
Oliver's eyes widened as Fagin pulled out a magnificent gold watch, sparkling with jewels. The old man grinned and muttered some words that Oliver couldn't hear. Out of the box came a dozen more watches, plus rings, necklaces, and bracelets.
Suddenly Fagin looked up, and his eyes met Oliver's. Fagin closed the lid of the box with a loud crash. Trembling with anger, he approached Oliver.
"Why are you watching me? Why are you awake? What have you seen?" cried Fagin. "Speak, boy!"
"I couldn't sleep any longer, sir," Oliver said meekly. "I'm very sorry if I disturbed you, sir."
"Did you see any of these pretty things, my dear?" Fagin laid his hand on the box.
"Yes, sir."
"Ah!" Fagin turned pale. "They . . . they're mine, Oliver. My little property. All I have to live on in my old age. People call me a miser, my dear. I'm just a miser, that's all."
Oliver thought the old gentleman must be a miser. Why else would he live in such a dirty place when he had all those riches? But maybe he was spending all his money caring for the boys.
"May I get up?" asked Oliver.
"Certainly, my dear, certainly. There's a pitcher of water by the door. Bring it here and I'll give you a basin to wash in."
After Oliver washed himself, Fagin told him to empty the basin out the window. Oliver had just finished doing that when the Dodger returned with one of the boys, Charley Bates. They all sat down to breakfast. The Dodger had brought home some rolls and ham in the crown of his hat.
Fagin glanced slyly at Oliver as he spoke to the boys. "Have you been hard at work this morning, my dears?"
"Oh yes," said Charley.
"Good boys! What have you got, Dodger?"
"A couple of wallets." The Dodger handed two wallets to Fagin.
Fagin opened the wallets and inspected the insides. "Nicely lined, but not as heavy as they might be. But very neat and nicely made. The Dodger is an ingenious workman, isn't he, Oliver?"
"Indeed, sir," replied Oliver.
Charley laughed uproariously at this remark to the amazement of Oliver, who didn't see anything to laugh at.
"And what have you got, my dear?" Fagin asked Charley.
"Handkerchiefs." Charley pulled four silk squares from his pockets.
Fagin looked them over carefully. "Well, they're very good. But you haven't monogrammed them nicely at all. All the embroidered initials will have to be picked out with a needle. We'll teach Oliver how to do that. You'd like to make handkerchiefs as easily as Charley, wouldn't you?"
"Very much indeed. If you'll teach me, sir," replied Oliver.
Charley laughed so hard that he almost choked on his coffee. "He's so innocent," Charley said when he could speak again.
Oliver didn't realize that he'd fallen in with a gang of pickpockets. Sometimes the boys stole wallets. And sometimes they took handkerchiefs, which were later resold in shops.
When breakfast was cleared away, Fagin and the two boys played a game that seemed very strange to Oliver.
First Fagin placed a snuffbox in one pocket of his trousers and a wallet in another. He put a watch in his waistcoat pocket and a mock diamond pin in his shirt. He buttoned his coat and put his eyeglass case and his handkerchief in his coat pockets.
Then he trotted back and forth with a walking stick, imitating the way that old gentlemen walked about the city every day. Sometimes he stopped, pretending to study a shop window. He patted his pockets and looked around in such a funny way that Oliver laughed until he cried. At last the Dodger stepped on Fagin's toes while Charley stumbled into him and reached into his pockets.
If Fagin felt a hand in any pocket, he cried out and the game began again. But the game was soon interrupted by the arrival of a young lady named Nancy.
"Pleased to meet you, Oliver," said Nancy.
Oliver thought she seemed very nice, almost like an older sister to the boys. Fagin gave her something to eat, and after chatting awhile, she left with Charley and the Dodger.
"This is a pleasant life, isn't it?" Fagin said to Oliver. "They've gone out for the day."
"Are they going to do some more work?"
"Yes, if there's work to do, they'll find it. Make them your models, my dear." Fagin tapped the fire shovel on the hearth to add emphasis to his words. "Do everything they say and take all their advice, especially the Dodger's. He'll be a great man and he'll make you one, too, if you model yourself after him."
Fagin stared off into the fire. "Is my handkerchief hanging out of my pocket, my dear?"
"Yes, sir."
"See if you can take it out without my feeling anything. Remember how you saw them do that when they were playing earlier."
Oliver held up the bottom of Fagin’s pocket with one hand as he had seen the Dodger hold it. Then with the other hand, he pulled out the handkerchief.
"Is it gone?" cried Fagin.
"Here it is, sir." Oliver showed him the handkerchief.
"I never saw a sharper lad! Here's a shilling for you. If you go on this way, you'll be the greatest man of all. Now come here and I'll show you how to take the monograms out of handkerchiefs."
Oliver didn't understand what this had to do with being a great man. But assuming that the older man knew more than he did, Oliver followed him to the table and was soon engrossed in his new work.