The G.S. I dunno what more you expect for a penny.
A Person on the Outskirts (eagerly to Friend). What happened? What is it? I couldn't make it out over all the people's shoulders.
His Friend. Dying child—not half bad either. You go and put in a penny, and you'll see it well enough.
The P. on the O. (indignantly). What, put in a penny for such rubbish? Not me!
[He hangs about till someone else provides the necessary coin.
A Softhearted Female. No, I couldn't stand there and look on. I never can bear them pathetic subjects. I felt just the same with that picture of the Sick Child at the Academy, you know. (Meditatively.) And you don't have to put a penny in for that, either.
BEFORE ANOTHER BEDROOM SCENE REPRESENTING "THE DRUNKARD'S DELIRIUM."
First Woman. That's 'im in bed, with the bottle in his 'and. He likes to take his liquor comfortable, he do.
Second Woman. He's very neat and tidy, considering ain't he? I wonder what his delirium is like. 'Ere, ROSY, come and put your penny in as the gentleman give yer. (ROSY, aged six, sacrifices her penny, under protest.) Now, you look—you can't think what pretty things you'll see.
[The little wooden drunkard sits up, applies the bottle to his mouth, and sinks back contentedly; a demon, painted a pleasing blue, rises slowly by his bed-side: the drunkard takes a languid interest in him; the demon sinks.