Dolls attended at their own residences.
"I hope it's a good business," said Lizzie, smiling at the little creature.
"No. Poorly paid," said Jenny. "And I'm often pressed for time. I had a doll married last week, and was obliged to work all night to get her ready in time, and it's not good for me, on account of my back being so bad and my legs so queer. And they don't take care of their clothes, and they want new fashions every month. One doll I work for has three daughters. Bless you! she's enough to ruin her husband."
Here Jenny laughed, and gave such a sharp look at Lizzie, and hitched her little chin, as if her eyes and chin worked together by the pulling of a wire.
"Are you always so busy?" Lizzie asked, looking with wonder at the small fingers cutting, gumming, and stitching so fast.
"Oh, busier," said Jenny, tossing her head. "I'm slack just now. I finished a large order for mourning clothes the day before yesterday. The doll I worked for had lost a canary-bird, and she wanted very deep mourning." She laid down her work, and reached for a crutch that leaned against the bench. "Come," said she, "I'll show you the room. It's not large, but it's nice, and very cheap."
They went up a small and narrow staircase, and Jenny threw open a small door, and with one step down they were in a little box of a room, but it was neat as wax, and had one white-curtained window just over the front door. Lizzie hired the room at once, and then followed her queer little landlady down into the parlor again.
"Are you alone all day?" said Lizzie. "Don't any of the children in this street—"
"Oh, don't!" said Jenny, with a little cry, as if the word had pricked her. "Don't talk to me of children! I can't bear children! Oh, I know their tricks and their manners!" She said this with an angry shake of her tiny right fist close before her eyes. "Always running about and screeching, they are; always playing and fighting; always skip-skip-skipping on the walk, and chalking it for their games. And that's not all"—shaking her little fist as before. "They go a-calling names through a person's key-hole, and imitating a person's back and legs. Oh, I'll tell you what I'd do to punish 'em if I could. There's doors under the church in the square, black doors leading into dark vaults. I'd like to open one of those doors, and cram 'em all in; and then I'd lock the door, and blow in pepper through the key-hole."
The little creature stopped, quite out of breath.