"Not a bit," replied the sage Miss Wren, with an air of vast experience.
"My dear, they don't care for you, those fellows, if you're not hard
upon 'em?"
In such light and playful conversation, which was the dear delight of
Jenny Wren, they continued until interrupted by Mr. Wrayburn, a friend
of Lizzie's, who fell to talking playfully with Jenny Wren.
"I think of setting up a doll, Miss Jenny," he said.
"You had better not," replied the dressmaker.
"Why not?"
"You are sure to break it. All you children do."
"But that makes good for trade, you know, Miss Wren," he returned.
"I don't know about that," Miss Wren retorted; "but you'd better by half
set up a pen-wiper, and turn industrious, and use it."
"Why, if we were all as industrious as you, little Busy Body, we should
begin to work as soon as we could crawl, and there would be a
bad thing!"
"Do you mean," returned the little creature with a flush suffusing her
face, "bad for your backs and your legs?"
"No, no," said the visitor, shocked at the thought of trifling with her
infirmity. "Bad for business. If we all set to work as soon as we could
use our hands, it would be all over with the dolls' dressmakers.
"There's something in that," replied Miss Wren, "you have a sort of an
idea in your noddle sometimes!" Then, resting one arm upon the elbow of
her chair, resting her chin upon that hand, and looking vacantly before
her, she said in a changed tone: "Talking of ideas, my Lizzie, I wonder
how it happens that when I am working here all alone in the summer-time,
I smell flowers.
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