Maggie: I didn’t swipe it, smarty, an old guv’ner gave it to me for running an errand for ’im.
Crispin: Is that all ’e guv yer?
Maggie: Isn’t that enough—wot yer want a guy to guv yer—a sixpence fer doin’ nuthin’—an’ besides, he wor a nice ol’ gentleman.
Crispin: How d’jer know—was ’e a friend of yer feyther?
Maggie: Naw, smarty, ’e was no friend of my fambly, I never seen ’im before tonight—but I know ’e is a nice man—he said such nice things to me.
Crispin: Wot d’jer mean by nice things—I never seed any on ’em knockin’ around our alley.
Maggie: Well—w’en I got back to ’im he smiled and said, “Thank yer, mi dear, and ’eres a apple fer yer, and I wish yer a Merry Christmas.”
Crispin: (H)excuse me, Mag, fer takin’ liberties with yer name on such a short acquaintance, but I ’ave to laff w’en I ’ear of these rich guys wishin’ the likes of us a ’appy Christmas, and doin’ nuthin’ to ’elp make their wish come true.—Now if yer kind benefactor ’ad said, “Here’s a ten-pound note—go and get yerself some warm clothes to cover yer ’arf-naked body, and some food to fill yer empty stomach, and get fer yerself one o’ them golden-’aired dollys wot shut their eyes, and say, ‘Mamma’ when yer punch ’em in their breadbasket,” I could feel he were sincere in his good wishes for yer.
Maggie: Now, Cris, yer mustn’t run on like that, it isn’t fair—some of these rich folk never had the chances you and me ’ave ’ad—and so I say, clothes, or no clothes, food, or no food, blue-eyed sleepin’, squawkin’ dollies, or no dollies, I’m glad fer the progress some on ’em ’ave made. Perhaps some day they will learn that true Christmas ’appiness begins in well wishing and ends in well doing. Until then we must be content in lookin’ at the things which belong to others, just as we ’ave been doin’ before this winder fer the last ’arf ’our.
(At this point the clock in the steeple strikes five.)