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queer. But I'm the person of the house."

"Who else is at home?" asked Charley Hexam, staring?

"Nobody's at home at present," returned the child, with a glib
assertion of her dignity, "except the person of the house."

The queer little figure, and the queer, but not ugly little face, with
its bright grey eyes, was so sharp that the sharpness of the manner
seemed unavoidable.

The person of the house continued the conversation: "Your sister will be
in," she said, "in about a quarter of an hour. I'm very fond of your
sister. Take a seat. And would you please to shut the street door first?
I can't very well do it myself, because my back's so bad and my legs are


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