Oliver plucks up a spirit.
"Open the door, will yer?" cried the voice which belonged to the legs which had kicked at the door.
"I will directly, sir," replied Oliver, undoing the chain, and turning the key.
"I suppose yer the new boy, a'nt yer?" said the voice, through the key-hole.
"Yes, sir," replied Oliver.
"How old are yer?" inquired the voice.
"Eleven, sir," replied Oliver.
"Then I'll whop yer when I get in," said the voice; "you just see if I don't, that's all, my work'us brat!" and, having made this obliging promise, the voice began to whistle.
Oliver had been too often subjected to the process to which the very expressive monosyllable just recorded bears reference, to entertain the smallest doubt that the owner of the voice, whoever he might be, would redeem his pledge most honourably. He drew back the bolts with a trembling hand, and opened the door.