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public-house, a boy crossed over, and walking close to him, said,

"Hullo! my covey! What's the row?"

The boy who addressed this inquiry to the young wayfarer, was about his
own age: but one of the queerest looking boys that Oliver had ever seen.
He was a snub-nosed, flat-browed, common-faced boy enough; and as dirty a
juvenile as one would wish to see; but he had about him all the airs and
manners of a man. He was short, with bow-legs, and little, sharp, ugly,
eyes. His hat was stuck on the top of his head, and he wore a man's coat
that reached nearly to his heels.


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