"Smallporks Hospital." Jim wondered how on earth Lizarann's friend had struck on this vein of invention, but he only expressed the mildest doubt of its accuracy lest he should upset his informant. As it was, he disturbed her slightly. "She ain't tellin' no lies," she added. "P'raps it warn't so bad as all that come to, lassie. P'raps it was only Guy's or 'Tholomoo's?" But the little person was not prepared to accept any composition that threw doubt on Bridgetticks. She might have questioned her statements personally, even to the extent of calling her a story. But she felt bound to defend her, even against her father. So she nailed her colours, so to speak, to the Smallpox Hospital. That was to be the very hospital, and no other, that these two gentlemen were connected with. She gave illustrations of untruthfulness, as shown by contemporaries. "Jimmy 'Acker he's a liar. And Uncle Steptoe he's a liar. Aunt Stingy says so. Bridgetticks she ain't. She speaks the troof, she does. Yass! She _says_ so." Very open eyes and a nod. "In coorse she does, and in coorse she knows." Then poor Jim wondered to himself what this young person was like that his little lass had such faith in. He continued: "What's she like to look at, by way of describing of her now?" Lizarann had never described anybody, so far. That is to say, not consciously. She might have done it without knowing it was description. But she knew quite well what her father meant, and braced herself up to authorship. "She's very 'ard, all over," she said, as a first item. "And she's awful strong. She is--yass! And she don't stick out nowhere neither." A form the reverse of _svelte_ is impressed upon her hearer's inner vision. But she repents of the last item, and adds, "Only her nose!" "What's her colour of hair--black colour?--yaller colour?" "T'int no colour at all, Daddy." "Just plain hair-colour--is that it?" "Yass! Pline hair-colour." "What's her eyes?" But this is too difficult. Lizarann gives it up. To say plain eye-colour would be poor and unoriginal. However, particulars could be given of Bridgettickses eyes, apart from questions of their colour. "She can squint, she can. Yass--acrost!" "She don't want to it--not she!" "Don't she want to it, Daddy?" A timid expression of doubt this. "I said--I said--to Bridgetticks...." "Hurry up, little lass! What was it ye said?" "I said--to Bridgetticks--I said the boys said she couldn't be off of it, they did. That's what the boys said." "And she said _they_ was liars, I'll go bail. Hay, little lass?" "She said they was liars. Yass!" And then the difficulties of negotiating the passage across Cazenove Street, where they had by this time arrived, stopped the conversation. When the couple were safely landed on the opposite pavement, talk went on again. Jim's image of Bridgetticks had not been improved by Lizarann's description. And an incident of her narrative had caused him to picture to himself a terrifying vision of her.