This time a timid nod was forthcoming.

"Oh," said Jim, in suppressed delight. "What is your nice little name?"

For a moment coyness overtook the tiny man. Then he faintly replied,
"Nu-thans."

"Nuisance?" repeated the miner, and again he saw the timid little nod.

"But that ain't a name," said Jim. "Is 'Nuisance' all the name the
baby's got?"

His bit of a guest seemed to think very hard, but at last he nodded as
before.

"Well, string my pearls," said the miner to himself, "if somebody
'ain't been mean and low!" He added, cheerfully, "Wal, it's easier to
live down a poor name than it is to live up to a fine one, any day, but
we'll name you somethin' else, I reckon, right away. And ain't that
dolly nice?"

The two were in the midst of appreciating the charms of her ladyship
when the cabin door was abruptly opened and in came a coatless, fat,
little, red-headed man, puffing like a bellows and pulling down his
shirtsleeves with a great expenditure of energy, only to have them
immediately crawl back to his elbows.

"Hullo, Keno," drawled the lanky Jim. "I thought you was mad and gone
away and died."