The girl clutched the pennies, jumped from the chair--whereat the baby crowed, supposing it to be a game provided for her amusement--and having no pocket, held the money tight in her hand. Visions of sweet stuff rose before her. The pennies getting warm, the ice at the North Pole began to melt.
"And now perhaps you will tell me your name."
"Prissy. That's the short un."
"The long one is----"
"Priscilla."
"A grand name. You ought to have a silk gown and satin shoes and a gold comb." Prissy opened her eyes very wide. The ice was melting quickly, and the buds were coming on the trees. "And baby's name?"
"Wictoria Rejiner. That's grander, aint it?"
"Much grander! Victoria Regina--a little queen!" Prissy gave baby a kiss, with pride and love in her glittering eyes. "What makes your face so black, Prissy?"
"Coals. Aunty deals in 'em--and cabbages and taters and oranges and lemons. And she takes in washing."
So genial was Aaron Cohen's voice that spring was coming in fast. "You look, Prissy, as if you had very little to eat."