human
You ain't got no tex' 'ung up, she remarked, disparagingly.
gpt
We 'as two tex' in our kitching. I 'ung 'em up myself. An' father beat me for it. But I didn't keer, 'cos I knew I wos doin' good.
human
Do you go to Sunday School?
gpt
I goes reggler, an' I'm first in the School, and I knows more colics than any of 'em, excep' teachers. I ain't like GAZEY.
human
Who's GAZEY?
gpt
She's a girl what I 'ites. She's a bad girl. We calls 'er GAZEY, 'cos it's short for GEHAZI; but that ain't 'er real nime. She's a liar. She's allus tellin' lies--seems as if she couldn't storp doin' it.
human
What kind of lies?
gpt
She don't tell no lies to get 'erself out of nothin'; 'cos she's so bad that she don't keer whort rows she gets inter. But she tells other sorts. She just sits up on the fence what goes roun' the green, an' mikes up things, an' a lot of the children ain't got no more sense than to sit roun' an' listen to 'er. That just mikes 'er worse. She sits theer, a-tellin' stories, an' sweerin' they're all true. You never 'eard such stories.
human
What are they all about?
gpt
Mostly about gran' things an' wunnerful things--kings, an' carridges, an' angels, an' firewux, an' dreams what she says she's 'ad. An' she'll sweer they're true. My word, it is wicked of 'er! She's allus pretennin' to be things what she ain't, too. One Sat'dy arf'noon she said she was a steam-injun. An' she got 'old of a little boy, BOB COLLINGS, and said 'e was the tender. An' BOB COLLINGS 'ad to foller close be'ind 'er all that arf'noon, else she'd a' nigh killed 'im. 'E got rather tired, because she kept runnin' about, bein' a express an' 'avin' cerlishuns. Lawst of all she wived 'er awms about, and mide a kind o' whooshin' noise. 'Now,' she said, 'my biler's bust, an' I'm done for!' So she lay flat on the wet groun', an' the tender went 'ome to 'is tea.
human
What's she like to look at?
gpt
She's prettier nor I am, nor any of the other childrun roun' 'ere. She's got golding 'air, an' blue eyes. But I 'ite 'er, 'cos she's so bad, an' 'cos she mikes the other children bad. I don't never listen to none of 'er mike-ups now.
human
Would she let me make a sketch of her?
gpt
Dunno. You wouldn't like 'er. She's low in the wye she talks. The new curick don't like 'er. Nobody don't like 'er.