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'This is a singular book,' said I at last; 'but it does not appear to have been written to prove that thieving is no harm, but rather to show the terrible consequences of crime: it contains a deep moral.' 'A deep what, dear ?' 'A--but no matter, I will give you a crown for this volume.' 'No, dear, I will not sell the volume for a crown.' 'I am poor,' said I; 'but I will give you two silver crowns for your volume.' 'No, dear, I will not sell my volume for two silver crowns; no, nor for the golden one in the king's tower down there; without my book I should mope and pine, and perhaps fling myself into the river; but I am glad you like it, which shows that I was right about you, after all; you are one of our party, and you have a flash about that eye of yours which puts me just in mind of my dear son.

No, dear, I won't sell you my book; but, if you like, you may have a peep into it whenever you come this way.

I shall be glad to see you; you are one of the right sort, for, if you had been a common one, you would have run away with the thing; but you scorn such behaviour, and, as you are so flash of your money, though you say you are poor, you may give me a tanner to buy a little baccy with; I love baccy, dear, more by token that it comes from the plantations to which the blessed woman was sent.' 'What's a tanner ?' said I.
'Lor! don't you know, dear?
Why, a tanner is sixpence; and, as you were talking just now about crowns, it will be as well to tell you that those of our trade never calls them crowns, but bulls; but I am talking nonsense, just as if you did not know all that already, as well as myself; you are only shamming--I'm no trap, dear, nor more was the blessed woman in the book.

Thank you, dear--thank you for the tanner; if I don't spend it, I'll keep it in remembrance of your sweet face.