“Well, my instructions don’t say nothing, Miss, about her being of Italian extraction; but if she came from that there country, it’s quite sufficient to account for her being what you says, Miss. But my adwices runs merely—’female—small and elegant figure,’” continued the officer, reading. “Wheyte reet,” interrupted Cursty. “Rayther fresh colour,” added the Detective. “Yes, sir, we used to call her foxy—and she had one of the most beautiful coats of her own you ever saw.” “No, there ain’t a word here about her having any kind of a coat. But I know, Miss; you means one of them there kind of hairy coats we sees the females in Regent Street in, now-a-days.” “And what was very remarkable about her, sir,” continued Elcy, intent upon the perfections of her lost pet, “was her nose—it was a beauty, I do assure you—so long and sharp, and then always so nice and cold, even in the height of summer.” The Detective could not help smiling at the country girl’s idea of a beautiful nose, and again referring to his paper, said, half to himself, “They’ve got it down here as Grecian, but I suppose that’ll do.” “Then again, sir, she had one of the smallest waists, and, I really think, the very thinnest legs you could see anywhere.” The Policeman started with wonder at what he thought the young lady’s extreme simplicity, and merely observed, “Our people don’t say nothing about her legs, Miss;” then, turning to Mr. Sandboys, he inquired whether he had ever known the Italian to go astray before. “Why, noa,” returned Cursty; “I never kenned her run after owt, with t’ exception of a young hare yence, as she fell in wi’, down Buttermere way.” “Ah, that’s what they’ll all do,” observed the Policeman; “they are all ready enough to run after the young heirs, sir, in town and country, too,” he added, smiling at his self-conceited severity on the sex; “and them Italians, I’m told, sir, is shocking warm-blooded creatures.” “Warm-blooded!” echoed Cursty; “I’se sure, she always seemed cold enough wi’ us, for she were sheevering and shecking away from mworning tull neet, for aw the warl’ as if she was a loomp of penter’s seyze, (painter’s size.) But they be ongracious things to kip; food seems aw thworn away on ’em.” “Yes!” said Mrs. Sandboys, indignantly, “though I ’lowanced her as much as twa pennywuth of meat every day, forby aw the screps from our tebble, she never did yen onny justice. If yen had hawf starved her, she cuddent a bin mair thin than she were.” The larder-loving Policeman could not help thinking to himself that the allowance was far from being anything to brag about, nor was he much astonished, now that he was made acquainted with the diet she had been used to, at the disappearance of the imaginary young lady. “If it wer’n’t for puir Elcy, here, I meysel suddent car’ sa varra much if t’ creature never kem back nae mair, for there beant much ’ffection in them thar Italians. Now it were on’y last year, she’d twa young ones.”