"No; I live here with my fairy godmother."
"With—with—who did you say, miss?"
"Well, of course you don't understand," Jenny explained. "With my second father, or with my first, really." She shook her head and sighed. "If you'd known a poor child I used to have, you'd have understood me; but as it is, you don't, and you can't."
"You must have been taught a long time, miss, before you could do such nice work, and so pretty," Sloppy said, looking at the gay doll and the quick fingers.
"Never was taught a stitch. Just cobbled and cobbled until I found out how. Did badly at first, but better now."
"And here have I been ever so long a-learning of my trade—cabinet-making," said the boy. "I'll tell you what, miss; I should like to make you something."
"Much obliged," said the little creature, with her sharp look, and her head on one side. "You're a new sort of customer. What would you like to make for me, now?"
Sloppy looked all around the room. "I could make you a handy set of nests to lay the dolls in, or I could make you a handy little set of drawers to keep your silks and threads in, miss, or I could turn you a pretty handle for that crutch. It belongs to him you call your godmother?"
"It belongs to me," said Jenny, blushing over her face and neck; "I'm lame."
Sloppy blushed too, for he was a kind boy in spite of his big mouth and his lots of buttons.