Before she finished the sentence Becky placed before her a thick slice of bread and butter, and was busy cutting another. Fanny soon dispatched them, and did not say “No” to a third slice.
“Do you feel better, Fanny?” asked Becky.
“Ever so much,” replied Fanny, looking wistfully around. The kitchen was warm, and the little beggar girl was thinking of the cold night outside.
Becky noticed the look and knew what it meant.
“No, Fanny,” she thought, “you shall not go out in the cold to-night. It is my belief you were sent to help me; it may be a lucky meeting for both of us.”
“Fanny,” she said aloud, “where’s your mother?”
“She’s got three months,” said Fanny, “and the magistrate sed he’d ’ave give ’er six if he could.”
“Where are you going to sleep to-night?”
“Blanche,” said Fanny, with a quiver in her voice, “is there such a thing as a coal-cellar ’ere?”