at one of these stopped.
“This must be where my sister lives, sir. This is where she came for a temporary lodging, soon after father’s death.”
“How often have you seen her since?”
“Why, only twice, sir,” returned the boy, with his former reluctance; “but that’s as much her doing as mine.”
“How does she support herself?”
“She was always a fair needlewoman, and she keeps the stockroom of a seaman’s outfitter.”
“Does she ever work at her own lodging here?”
“Sometimes; but her regular hours and regular occupation are at their place of business, I believe, sir. This is the number.”
The boy knocked at a door, and the door promptly opened with a spring and a click. A parlour door within a small entry stood open, and disclosed a child—a dwarf—a girl—a something—sitting on a little low old-fashioned armchair, which had a kind of little working bench before it.