With her expert little ways in sharp action, she had got a doll into whitey-brown paper orders, before the meal was over, and was displaying it for the edification of the Jewish mind, when a knock was heard at the street-door. Riah went to open it, and presently came back, ushering in, with the grave and courteous air that sat so well upon him, a gentleman.

The gentleman was a stranger to the dressmaker; but even in the moment of his casting his eyes upon her, there was something in his manner which brought to her remembrance Mr. Eugene Wrayburn.

“Pardon me,” said the gentleman. “You are the dolls’ dressmaker?”

“I am the dolls’ dressmaker, sir.”

“Lizzie Hexam’s friend?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Miss Jenny, instantly on the defensive. “And Lizzie Hexam’s friend.”