“You may, sir,” replied Mr. Crummles, looking steadily in his questioner’s face, as some men do when they have doubts about being implicitly believed in what they are going to say. “She is ten years of age, sir.” “Not more?” “Not a day.” “Dear me!” said Nicholas, “it’s extraordinary.” It was; for the Infant Phenomenon, though of short stature, had a comparatively aged countenance, and had moreover been precisely the same age--not perhaps to the full extent of the memory of the oldest inhabitant, but certainly for five good years. But she had been kept up late every night, and put upon an unlimited allowance of gin and water from infancy, to prevent her growing tall, and perhaps this system of training had produced in the Infant Phenomenon these additional phenomena. Nicholas was invited to dinner with the Crummles family at their lodgings. Mrs. Crummles, who always talked as if she were on the stage, received him in a most dignified way. “You are welcome,” said Mrs. Crummles, turning round to Nicholas when they reached the bow-windowed front room on the first floor. Nicholas bowed his acknowledgments, and was unfeignedly glad to see the cloth laid. “We have but a shoulder of mutton with onion sauce,” said Mrs. Crummles, in the same charnel-house voice; “but such as our dinner is, we beg you to partake of it.” “You are very good,” replied Nicholas, “I shall do it ample justice.” “Vincent,” said Mrs. Crummles, “what is the hour?” “Five minutes past dinner-time,” said Mr. Crummles. Mrs. Crummles rang the bell. “Let the mutton and onion sauce appear.” The slave who attended upon Mr. Bulph’s lodgers disappeared, and after a short interval reappeared with the festive banquet. Nicholas and the Infant Phenomenon opposed each other at the pembroke-table, and Smike and the Master Crummleses dined on the sofa-bedstead. “Are they very theatrical people here?” asked Nicholas. “No,” replied Mr. Crummles, shaking his head, “far from it--far from it.” “I pity them,” observed Mrs. Crummles. “So do I,” said Nicholas; “if they have no relish for theatrical entertainments, properly conducted.” “Then they have none, sir,” rejoined Mr. Crummles. “To the Infant’s benefit, last year, on which occasion she repeated three of her most popular characters, and also appeared in the Fairy Porcupine, as originally performed by her, there was a house of no more than four-pound-twelve.” “Is it possible?” cried Nicholas. “And two pound of that was trust, pa,” said the Phenomenon. “And two pound of that was trust,” repeated Mr. Crummles. The public did not always appreciate the genius of the Infant Phenomenon, but that made no difference to the admiring father. When Nicholas suggested that perhaps a boy phenomenon might be added to the company, Mr. Crummles answered solemnly: “There is only one Phenomenon, sir, and that is a girl.” A CHRISTMAS TREE XXIV