"Why, engravers, of course;" with supreme astonishment at her ignorance.
"And they—do the thinking,—plan the picture, I mean?"
"What?" asked the boy, as if Charlie had spoken Greek.
"Some one must have the idea first."
He could not controvert it, and stared about helplessly.
"Are there any lady engravers?"
"No, I guess not;" scratching his head.
"And who makes these little pictures of children like this girl teaching the dog to read, and this one with the flowers?"
"Oh, I know what you want!" exclaimed the boy. "We gets 'em down in Ann Street. There's some girls working in the place. Do you know where Ann Street is?"
Some of Charlie's old humor cropped out.