Great Porter Square: a Mystery

My Dearest Love-How, did you like my little messenger, Fanny? Is she not steady, and bright, and clever? When she woke this morning I had an earnest conversation with her, and as far as was necessary I told her my plans and that I wanted her faithful assistance. She cried for joy. The few words she managed to get out convinced me that, child as she is, I could not be better served by a grown-up person. Besides, I want[2] a child to assist me; a grown-up person might spoil my plans. In what way? Patience, my dear, patience.