The person of the house, dolls dressmaker and manufacturer of ornamental pincushions and pen-wipers, sat in her quaint little low arm-chair, singing in the dark, until Lizzie came back. The person of the house had attained that dignity while yet of very tender years indeed, through being the only trustworthy person in the house.
Well Lizzie-Mizzie-Wizzie, said she, breaking off in her song. whats the news out of doors?
Whats the news in doors? returned Lizzie, playfully smoothing the bright long fair hair which grew very luxuriant and beautiful on the head of the dolls dressmaker.
Let me see, said the blind man. Why the last news is, that I dont mean to marry your brother.
No-o, shaking her head and her chin. Dont like the boy.
What do you say to his master?
I say that I think hes bespoke.
Lizzie finished putting the hair carefully back over the mis-shapen shoulders, and then lighted a candle. It showed the little parlour to be dingy, but orderly and clean. She stood it on the mantelshelf, remote from the dressmakers eyes, and then put the room door open, and the house door open, and turned the little low chair and its occupant towards the outer air. It was a sultry night, and this was a fine-weather arrangement when the days work was done. To complete it, she seated herself in a chair by the side of the little chair, and protectingly drew under her arm the spare hand that crept up to her.
This is what your loving Jenny Wren calls the best time in the day and night, said the person of the house. Her real name was Fanny Cleaver; but she had long ago chosen to bestow upon herself the appellation of Miss Jenny Wren.
I have been thinking, Jenny went on, as I sat at work to-day, what a thing it would be, if I should be able to have your company till I am married, or at least courted. Because when I am courted, I shall make Him do some of the things that you do for me. He couldnt brush my hair like you do, or help me up and down stairs like you do, and he couldnt do anything like you do; but he could take my work home, and he could call for orders in his clumsy way. And he shall too. Ill trot him about, I can tell him!
Jenny Wren had her personal vanities happily for her and no intentions were stronger in her breast than the various trials and torments that were, in the fulness of time, to be inflicted upon him.
Wherever he may happen to be just at present, or whoever he may happen to be, said Miss Wren, I know his tricks and his manners, and I give him warning to look out.
Dont you think you are rather hard upon him? asked her friend, smiling, and smoothing her hair.
Not a bit, replied the sage Miss Wren, with an air of vast experience. My dear, they dont care for you, those fellows, if youre not hard upon em. But I was saying If I should be able to have your company. Ah! What a large If! Aint it?
I have no intention of parting company, Jenny.
Dont say that, or youll go directly.
Am I so little to be relied upon?
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