There were houses in it, furnished and unfurnished, for dolls of all stations in life. Nice houses for dolls of moderate means; smaller houses for dolls not so well off; fine town residences for dolls of high estate. Some of the houses were already furnished with a view to the conveniences of dolls of limited income; others could be furnished on notice from the shelves nearby which were full of chairs and tables, sofas, bedsteads, and other articles of furniture.
Then there were many dolls themselves of all kinds and from all stations in life.
There were various other samples of his handicraft besides dolls and dolls’ houses in Caleb Plummer’s room. There were Noah’s Arks in which the birds and beasts were an uncommonly tight fit, I assure you. There were scores of little carts, which, when the wheels went round, performed most doleful music. There were small fiddles and drums, and no end of cannon, shields and spears.
There were little fellows in red breeches who would tumble down head first along a piece of tape. There were old gentlemen dolls who would fly over trapeze bars when pressed in the right place. There were beasts of all sorts; horses, in particular, of every breed, from the little spotted gray on four legs, to the thoroughbred rocked on his highest mettle.
There were Houses in It, Furnished and Unfurnished, for Dolls of All Stations in Life
There were dozens and dozens of other little toys, but you already can imagine how the room looked.
In the midst of all these objects, Caleb and his daughter sat at work; the blind girl busy as a doll’s dressmaker; Caleb painting a desirable doll’s family mansion.
“So you were out in the rain last night, Father, in your beautiful new great-coat,” said Caleb’s daughter.