A long time ago, every town in England had a workhouse. It was for people with no money and no family.
In one town, people found a young woman in the street.
"She's very ill," one woman said, "and she's going to have a baby."
They took her to the workhouse, and her son was born there. But she died.
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They called her son Oliver Twist. He and the other boys in the workhouse were not happy. They got one bowl of watery porridge three times a day.
The boys never asked for a second bowl of porridge. They were afraid. But at last Oliver took his empty bowl to the cook.
"Please, sir," he said. "I want some more." "What!" cried the cook. He sent for Mr Bumble, the workhouse master.
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"What!" cried Mr Bumble. And he took Oliver to the managers of the workhouse.
"What!" the managers said. "He asked for more? He must leave the workhouse!"
The next day, there was a notice on the workhouse door:
FIVE POUNDS FOR ANYONE WHO WILLTAKE THE BOY OLIVER TWISTFROM THE WORKHOUSE
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Mr Sowerberry was the town's coffin maker. The shop in his house was full of wooden coffins. They were ready for the town's dead bodies.
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