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218 "My daughter—my daughter," replied Mr. Vincent Crummies; "the idol of every place we go into, Sir. We have had complimentary letters about this girl, Sir, from the nobility and gentry of almost every town in England."

"I am not surprised at that," said Nicholas; "she must be quite a natural genius."

"Quite a——!" Mr. Crummies stopped; language was not powerful enough to describe the infant phenomenon. "I'll tell you what, Sir," he said; "the talent of this child is not to be imagined. She must be seen, Sir—seen—to be ever so faintly appreciated. There; go to your mother, my dear."

"May I ask how old she is? " inquired Nicholas. "You may, Sir," replied Mr. Crummies, 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.

While this short dialogue was going on, the gentleman who had enacted the savage came up, with his walking-shoes on his feet, and his slippers in his hand, to within a few paces, as if desirous to join in the conversation, and deeming this a good opportunity he put in his word.

"Talent there, Sir," said the savage, nodding towards Miss Crummles. Nicholas assented.

"Ah! " said the actor, setting his teeth together, and drawing in his breath with a hissing sound, "she oughtn't to be in the provinces, she oughtn't."

"What do you mean?" asked the manager.

"I mean to say," replied the other, warmly, "that she is too good for country boards, and that she ought to be in one of the large houses in London, or nowhere; and I tell you more, without mincing the matter, that if it wasn't for envy and jealousy in some quarter that you know of, she would be. Perhaps you'll introduce me here, Mr. Crummles."

"Mr. Folair," said the manager, presenting him to Nicholas.

"Happy to know you, Sir." Mr. Folair touched the brim of his hat with his forefinger, and then shook hands. "A recruit, Sir, I understand?"

"An unworthy one," replied Nicholas.