“Ladies’ bonnets?”
“Fine ladies’,” said the person of the house, nodding assent. “Dolls’. I’m a Doll’s Dressmaker.”
“I hope it’s a good business?”
The person of the house shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “No. Poorly paid. And I’m often so pressed for time! I had a doll married, last week, and was obliged to work all night. And it’s not good for me, on account of my back being so bad and my legs so queer.”
They looked at the little creature with a wonder that did not diminish, and the schoolmaster said: “I am sorry your fine ladies are so inconsiderate.”
“It’s the way with them,” said the person of the house, shrugging her shoulders again. “And they take no care of their clothes, and they never keep to the same fashions a month. I work for a doll with three daughters. Bless you, she’s enough to ruin her husband!” The person of the house gave a weird little laugh here, and gave them another look out of the corners of her eyes. She had an elfin chin that was capable of great expression; and whenever she gave this look, she hitched this chin up. As if her eyes and her chin worked together on the same wires.
“Are you always as busy as you are now?”
“Busier. I’m slack just now. I finished a large mourning order the day before yesterday. Doll I work for, lost a canary-bird.” The person of the house gave another little laugh, and then nodded her head several times, as who should moralize, “Oh this world, this world!”