"She looked up with a sly look, and seeing that he was not going to scold her, rubbed her nose with the poker and smiled boldly at him. "'Not yet, old 'un,' she replied, making no attempt to continue her work. "To be addressed as 'old 'un' must have been especially humiliating to our reporter, who is a good-looking fellow of eight-and-twenty, but he did not resent it. "'Wood won't catch, I suppose,' he said. 'Too damp, eh?' "'Soppin',' said Sophy, though as a matter of fact there was no wood before her. "'What are you looking so hard at me for?' asked our reporter. 'You'll make me blush presently.' "'_You_ blush!' laughed Sophy. 'I like that, I do. Look 'ere, old 'un. When you wants to blush, you'd better 'ire somebody to do it for you. _I'll_ do it for tuppence a time.' "'You would have to wash your face first,' said our reporter, entering into the humor of the situation. "'I wouldn't mind doing that,' said Sophy, staring harder than ever at him, 'if you'd make it wuth my while. As for lookin' at you, a cat may look at a king.' "'I'm not a king,' observed our reporter, 'and you're not a cat.' "'Call me one, and you'll feel my clors. I'm reckonin' of you up, that's what I'm doing of.' "'And what do you make of me, Sophy?' "'I sha'n't tell if you're going to act mean. 'Ansom is that 'ansom does.' "Our reporter took the hint, and gave the girl a sixpenny-piece. "'I say,' cried Sophy, greatly excited, as she tried the coin with her teeth. 'Stow larks, you know. Is it a good 'un?' "'Upon my honor,' said our reporter, placing his hand on his heart, with a mock heroic air. "'Say upon your soul.' "'Upon my soul, if you prefer it.' "'Change it for me, then. I'd sooner 'ave coppers.' "Our reporter had some in his pocket, and he counted out six into Sophy's grimy palm. A seventh, by accident, fell to the floor. Sophy instantly picked it up. "'Findin's keepin's,' she said. "'I'm agreeable. And now what do you make of me?' "'Wait a bit,' said Sophy. Unblushingly she lifted her frock, and tied the coppers in her ragged petticoat, tightening the knots with her teeth, which were as white as snow. 'That's my money-box, and I've got some more in it. What do I make of you? Oh, I knows what you are. You can't gammon me.' "'What am I?' "'You belong to the _Perlice Noos_, that's what you do. You've come to make pickchers. Pickcher of the 'ouse where the body was found. Pickcher of the room where the body was laid. Pickcher of the body's bed. Pickcher of the body's slippers. Pickcher of Mrs. Middlemore, the body's 'ousekeeper. Oh, I say, make a pickcher of me, will you? I'll buy a copy.' "'Perhaps, if you're good. But you must answer a question or two first.' "'All serene. Fire away!' "'You went upstairs last night with your aunt after you had your supper?' "'Yes, I did.' "'You did not go into the rooms?' "'No, I didn't.' "'Because you were frightened?'