(Bless you, 'e don't know the way to pull a cove's ear; my old gal can do it proper.) `No one is going to do anything to Smith,' says 'e.

`We only want you to give him this,' says he, pullin' out a bit of paper.

`Don't give it 'im,' says 'Orksbury; `he's a young thief,' says 'e, `and 'e'll only spoil it all.' `I will so,' says I, `and I'll spoil you too,' says I, aimin' a brush at his 'ed.

They gives me a wipin' for it, but there, they can't 'arf do it.

And they says if I want my shillin' I can go and get it from that cantin' son of a thief--meanin' you, governor--what kep' me.