Her appearance was a sufficient explanation of his astonishment. To say that she was ragged and dirty and forlorn, and as utterly unlike a little girl living in civilized society as any little girl could possibly be, would be but a poor description of her. Her face suggested that she had been lying with her head in a coal scuttle; she wore no hat or bonnet; her hair was matted; her frock reached just below her knees, and might have been picked out of a dust heap; she had no stockings; on her feet were two odd boots several sizes too large for her and quite worn out, one tied to her ankle with a piece of gray list, the other similarly secured with a piece of knotted twine. Her eyes glittered with preternatural sharpness; her cheek bones stuck out; her elbows were pointed and red; she was all bone--literally all bone; there was not an ounce of flesh upon her--not any part of her body that could be pinched with a sense of satisfaction. But the baby! What a contrast! Her head was round and chubby, and was covered with a mass of light curls; her hands were full of dimples; her face was puffed out with superabundant flesh; the calves of her legs were a picture. In respect of clothes she was no better off than Mrs. Hawkins' niece. "Wot are yer staring at?" demanded the girl. "At you, my child," replied Aaron with compassion in his voice. "Let's know when yer done," retorted the girl, "and I'll tell yer wot I charge for it." "And at baby," added Aaron. "That'll be hextra. Don't say I didn't warn yer." There were conflicting elements in the situation: its humor was undeniable, but it had its pathetic side. Aaron Cohen was swayed now by one emotion, now by another. "So you are Mrs. Hawkins' niece?" he said, with a twinkle in his eyes. "Yes, I am. Wot 'ave yer got to say agin it?" "Nothing. Is baby also Mrs. Hawkins' niece, or nephew?" "If you've no objections," said the girl with excessive politeness, "she's Mrs. Pond's little gal, and I nusses 'er." "I have no objection. What is your name?" "Wot it may be, my lordship," replied the girl, her politeness becoming Arctic, "is one thing--wot it is is another." "You are a clever little girl," said Aaron, smiling and rubbing his hands--"a sharp, clever little girl." "Thank yer for nothink," said the girl. She had reached the North Pole; it was necessary to thaw her. "Upon the mantelshelf," said Aaron, "just behind that beautiful blue vase, are two penny pieces. Step on a chair--not that cane one, you'll go through it; the wooden one--and see if you can find them." "I see 'em," said the girl, looking down upon Aaron in more senses than one. "They are yours. Put them in your pocket." The girl clutched the pennies, jumped from the chair--whereat the baby crowed, supposing it to be a game provided for her amusement--and having no pocket, held the money tight in her hand. Visions of sweet stuff rose before her. The pennies getting warm, the ice at the North Pole began to melt.