But when she gave him a sweet smile in return, and made him a pretty courtesy, he looked at her again, and said: "Where do you live, my child ?" "Paradise Row," she answered; "next door to the Adam and Eve--down the area." "Whom do you live with ?" he asked.
"My wicked old grannie," she replied.
"You shouldn't call your grannie wicked," said the gentleman.
"But she is," said the girl, looking up confidently in his face.

"If you don't believe me, you can come and take a look at her." The words sounded rude, but the girl's face looked so simple that the gentleman saw she did not mean to be rude, and became still more interested in her.
"Still you shouldn't say so," he insisted.
"Shouldn't I?
Everybody calls her wicked old grannie--even them that's as wicked as her.

You should hear her swear.

There's nothing like it in the Row.

Indeed, I assure you, sir, there's ne'er a one of them can shut my grannie up once she begins and gets right a-going.