“Well, then,” rejoined Mr. Sikes. “I wouldn’t. Why, damme, now, the girl’s whining again!”
Mr. Fagin and his pupil recovering Nancy.
“It’s nothing,” said the girl, throwing herself into a chair. “Don’t you seem to mind me, and it’ll soon be over.”
“What’ll be over?” demanded Mr. Sikes in a savage voice. “What foolery are you up to now again? Get up, and bustle about, and don’t come over me with your woman’s nonsense.”
At any other time this remonstrance, and the tone in which it was delivered, would have had the desired effect; but the girl being really weak and exhausted, dropped her head over the back of the chair, and fainted, before Mr. Sikes could get out a few of the appropriate oaths with which on similar occasions he was accustomed to garnish his threats. Not knowing very well what to do in this uncommon emergency, for Miss Nancy’s hysterics were usually of that violent kind which the patient fights and struggles out of without much assistance, Mr. Sikes tried a little blasphemy, and finding that mode of treatment wholly ineffectual, called for assistance.
“What’s the matter here, my dear?” said the Jew, looking in.
“Lend a hand to the girl, can’t you?” replied Sikes impatiently, “and don’t stand chattering and grinning at me!”
With an exclamation of surprise Fagin hastened to the girl’s assistance, while Mr. John Dawkins (otherwise the Artful Dodger), who had followed his venerable friend into the room, hastily deposited on the floor a bundle with which he was laden, and, snatching a bottle from the grasp of Master Charles Bates who came close at his heels, uncorked it in a twinkling with his teeth, and poured a portion of its contents down the patient’s throat; previously taking a taste himself to prevent mistakes.