Soon after this, however, by a fortunate accident, I was moved to an upright position with my back against a doll’s cradle, so that I could look down into the room below, and see what was going on there.
How long I remained upon the shelf I do not know, but it seemed like years to me, and I learned a great deal.
One afternoon Emmy had been reading to her sister as usual, but this time the story had been about a great Emperor in France, who, once upon a time, had a great many soldiers to play with, and whose name was Napoleon Bonaparte. The master himself listened to this, and as he walked thoughtfully up and down from the back room to the shop in front, he made himself a cocked hat of brown paper, and put it upon his head, with the corners pointing to each shoulder. Emmy continued to read, and the master continued thoughtfully walking up and down with his hands behind him, one hand holding the other.
But presently, and when his walk had led him into the front shop, where I could not see him, the shop-bell rang and Emmy ceased reading. A boy had come in, and the following dialogue took place.
‘If you please, sir,’ said the voice of the boy, ‘do you want a nice Twelfth-cake?’
‘Not particularly,’ answered the master, ‘but I have no objection to one.’
‘What will you give for it, sir?’ said the boy.
‘That is quite another question,’ answered the master; ‘go about your business. I am extremely engaged.’
‘I do not want any money for it, sir,’ said the boy.
‘What do you mean by that, my little captain?’ said the master.