Our Reporter: Does she work?
Fanny: I never seed ’er. She don’t do nothink.
Our Reporter: And no one comes to see her?
Fanny: Not as I knows on. Look ’ere! You don’t want to ’urt ’er, do you?
Our Reporter: No, Fanny. I would like to be a good friend to her, but I am afraid she has put it out of my power. You would be sorry if she went away from you?
Fanny (slowly, after a pause): I don’t know what I should do if she did. Are yer makin’ game of me? Who are yer?
Our Reporter: A friend of yours, Fanny, if you like. Do you see this paper? It was left for you.
Fanny: There’s my name on it. I can read that. Wot else does it say?
Our Reporter: Listen. (He reads.) “Dear little Fanny. Good bye. If ever I am rich I will try and find you. Look on the mantelshelf.” You were asleep, Fanny, and I looked on the mantel shelf. This was there for you. (He gives her the shilling.)