December 14, 1828

. . . It may seem strange that I have not written for quite a few days, but that is because business went as usual without much worth noting. I continued to leave every morning to "pick-pocket," but instead, went to my usual occupation; and I would later, bring back more of my personal valuables as "profit." By now, I was getting tired of depleting my own goods, so I decided to do something about it.

After being out for several hours, I came back to Fagin's and showed him my goods.

"Here you are: a wallet, a spoon, four cufflinks, two pocket-watches, and twenty-four pounds in cash," I dropped them onto the table to the delight of the elderly gentleman.

"My dear! What lovely wares as usual! You always bring home the best! You are choosy, my dear, but you have enough luck to find just what you are looking for!" he began to finger the items and hold them up in the light, "this clock has an inscription on it," he narrowed his eyes, "It says, 'James Edvard Esq. East Side Abuse Investigator.' My, my . . . that will need to be sanded out."

"Could I ask you something?" I ventured.

"Why yes, my dear," Fagin replied.

"Where do you take all these objects in order to turn them into monetary gain?"

"The pawn shoppe on Chelten Lane," Fagin began shuffling through some papers, "Mr. Lively takes care of the trade, my dear."

"Oh," I pretended to have lost interest and changed the subject. Mentally, though, I decided to pay Mr. Lively a visit the next day. I wanted my property back as soon as possible!

"Want to go down to the bar?" I asked.

"I would readily, my dear, but, I must see to other things tonight . . . the boys have laundry and I need to balance my expense book. Tomorrow night, perhaps." Fagin gave a look that deeply implied that laundry was an abhorred duty and that he would rather have a drink any day of the year.

"You do the laundry for all the boys?" I was incredulous about this being normal - it seemed out of character.

"I don't do the laundry myself, my dear, but I have to make sure that the boys do their laundry! They tend to skip it or "forget" about it and do something else instead. They need prodding! Ha, ha, ha!" Fagin grinned and went over to the stair-way, "Boys!" he called.

All six of the boys, that were still left in Fagin's service, came down and paused waiting for orders. It reminded me of an army with short, little soldiers coming out of the barracks to the sound of their sergeant, ready to obey his every command.

"Boys. It is laundry day. You know what that means . . ."

"It means that Robert's gonna end up soaked more than his clothes, as usual. AND that someone's gonna end up losing the soap bar while you end up slipping on the wet floor!" chimed Charlie with so much mirth that he could not contain it - and, therefore, had to let it out slowly - that is - he leant against the fireplace and laughed for several minutes, non-stop.

Fagin shook his head, "That is not what is going to happen, my dears. We are going to be civilized and not take up more than an hour of my precious time. Now, Dodger . . ."

"Yeah."

"Fetch the wash tub from the cellar. Robert, you and Tim can gather together the soap, washboard, and the clothes pegs. George, go aid the Dodger and help him fill the tub with water. Morgan and . . . Charlie . . . Charlie, once you are finished laughing, you and Morgan can hang up the clothesline. Now get to it, my dears!"

They all went to work. The elderly gentleman sat down at the table and watched their progress. Dodger and George heaved in a tub filled with cold water, Robert and Tim brought in the soap and other articles (afore mentioned), and Morgan and Charlie began to hang up the clothesline. This part was the most interesting. Morgan grabbed a chair and moved it over to one end of the room. Charlie got upon the chair and took down a painting from the wall. He then used the nail, that had hung the painting, to attach the string to the wall. Morgan moved the chair over to the opposite wall and Charlie did the same thing with the opposite painting. Strange, I had never noticed how perfectly the two pictures were placed across from each other!

During this, the other boys searched the house for the dirty laundry. They pulled old socks out of drawers, hats off of pegs; coats, trousers, shirts, waistcoats, underwear,etc. from other rooms and they dropped it all in a pile on the kitchen floor.

"You are forgetting the handkerchiefs, my dears!" said Fagin.

Dodge rushed over to the dresser and pulled out a box-full. Now, it was time for the washing to begin.

"Charlie, organize the clothing by type. Morgan, wet the clothing in the sink and hand it to Charlie. Charlie, you and Robert should scrub the clothing with the soap and hand it to George. George will scrub (using the washboard) and rinse the clothing. Dodger, you will wring the water out of it and Tim, you can hang it on the line. Now, in fifteen minutes, we will swap jobs. Tim will take over Charlie's job, Charlie will take Morgan's job, and so on," Fagin walked over to the fire and began to make some tea.

The system was well-organized and would have served well for a group of peaceful housemaids, but these were boys. Chaos could not be avoided forever.

Robert, being the smallest boy, lost his balance and got his arm and sleeve wet up to his shoulder.

Charlie began to howl with laughter.

Robert slapped Charlie across the face with a wet, soapy pair of underwear.

Charlie got it right in the mouth (which shows he shouldn't have had his mouth open) and choked and spat on the soap, "Cough, cough, HACK! YUCK!!!!!"

Fagin came quickly over and thumped Charlie on the back. Charlie, in turn, after swallowing soapy water and almost chocking on it - and having the soapy water escape down his gut - gagged it back up again.

Robert jumped back as quick as lightning along with Fagin, who did not expect that to happen.

"That's not right," said Tim, calmly, "He didn't spit out bubbles like they say you do. He just horked it ALL up!" he gave this with a disappointed air, and continued to hang up a clean pair of socks.

The rest of the boys left the room and headed up stairs. Tim finished with the socks, stepped down from his chair and strolled out of the room. Charlie was left on the floor. He stared down at his shirt and pants in disbelief at the brownish muck.

Fagin bent over and pulled Charlie off the floor. He then began to slowly undress Charlie.

I felt that it was a good time to go get that drink at the The Three Cripples.

I left the house and immediately changed my mind about the bar. I was going to spend this time at Chelten Lane. I walked for several minutes and then flagged down a coach.

I got off about a block away from the pawn shoppe. I walked over and was surprised to find that it was still open.

There was a short, over-weight man out front, smoking a pipe.

"Are you Mr. Lively?" I asked.

He pulled out the pipe and smiled, "Yep! That's me!" he then replaced the pipe.

"Still open? I wanted to look for a pocket-watch."

"Sure thing!" he practically jumped back through the door. He then scuttled at a fast pace over to a case that housed several clocks, "See!" he tapped on the glass, sped-walked to the other side of the case and unlocked it.

"I want that one," I pointed at one that used to be mine.

"That's six and a half pounds, my good sir!"

I handed him the money. He handed me the pocket-watch and I made my way back to Fagin's. (Although, not until I declined several offers for more wares at cheap prices and an invitation to have a drink!)

When I returned, I found Fagin cleaning the floor and Charlie at the table, smelling of bath soap, wearing someone else's clothing.

"Did you have a nice time, my dear?" he looked up from his mopping.

"More than you did, I am sure!" I replied.

Fagin grinned and continued working.

I went off to bed . . .

Thanks for reading! I loved this chapter and I hope you did too! Please review! - Elaine Dawkins