What a scarecrow lookin’ critter old aunty was, warn’t she? She was all in rags and tatters, and though she lived ‘longside of the lake the best part of her emigrant life, had never used water since she was christened. Her eyes were so sunk in her head, they looked like two burnt holes in a blanket. Her hair was pushed back, and tied so tight with an eel-skin behind her head, it seemed to take the hide with it. I 'most wonder how she ever shot to her eyes to go to sleep. She had no stockins on her legs, and no heels to her shoes, so she couldn’t lift her feet up, for fear of droppin’ off her slippers; but she just shoved and slid about as if she was on ice.