"Yes," resumed Pax, with a sigh, "it _was_ a child, that was. Her name was Mariar, but we called 'er Merry. Her father's name--the Brute's, you know--was Blackadder, and a blacker adder don't wriggle its slimy way through filthy slums nowhere--supposin' him to be yet unscragged, for he was uncommon hard on his wife--that's my Aunt Georgie. _Her_ name was Georgianna. I wonder how it is that people _never_ give people their right names! Well, Mr Aspel, you must know I was nuss to baby. An amytoor nuss I was--got no pay for it, but a considerable allowance o' kicks from the Brute, who wasn't fond o' me, as I'd done 'im a mortal injury, somehow, by being his defunct brother's orphan child. You understand?" George Aspel having professed a thorough comprehension of these family relationships, little Pax went on. "Well then, bein' nuss to Merry, I used to take 'er out long walks in the fields among the flowers, an' I was used to catch butterflies and beetles for 'er, an' brought 'em home an' stuck pins through 'em an' made c'lections; an' oh, I _did_ like to scuttle about the green lanes an' chase the cows, an' roll on the grass in the sunshine with Merry, an' tear an bu'st my trousers, for w'ich I got spanked by the Brute, but didn't care a rap, because that brought me double allowance o' coddlin' from Aunt Georgie. One day the Brute drove me into town in the market-cart; set me down in the middle of a street, and drove away, an' I haven't seen him, nor Aunt Georgie, nor Merry from that day to this." "Dear me!" exclaimed George Aspel, rather shocked at this sudden and unexpected termination of the narrative; "do you mean to say--" "It strikes me," interrupted Pax, looking pointedly at the door, "that you've got another visitor." Aspel turned and saw the dishevelled curls and pretty face of Tottie Bones in the doorway. "Please, sir," she said, entering, "I didn't like to interrupt you, but Miss Lillycrop sent me to say that there was a strange smell of singein' in the 'ouse, an' would Mr Aspel be so kind as to come and try to find out where it was, as she didn't understand such things." "Smell of singeing, child!" exclaimed Aspel, rising at once and putting on his coat and hat. "Did you search for the cause, especially about your kitchen fireplace?" "O yes, sir," exclaimed Tottie, "an' we couldn't see no cause at all-- only the flue seemed to be 'otter than usual. We looked all over the 'ouse too, but couldn't see nothink--but we could feel a most drefful smell." Desiring Mrs Murridge to call Mr Blurt to attend to the shop, George Aspel hurried out. "Don't try to keep up with us," said Aspel to Tottie; "I must run. It may be fire!" "Oh! please, sir, don't leave me behind," pleaded the child. "All right--we won't; kitch hold of my hand; give the other to Mr Aspel," said Peter Pax.