Such a business as he made of collecting it from his dogs'-eared pockets; of expecting it in this pocket, and not finding it; of not expecting it in that pocket, and passing it over; of finding no pocket where that other pocket ought to be!
'Is this all?' demanded the person of the house, when a confused heap of pence and shillings lay on the table.
'Got no more,' was the rueful answer, with an accordant shake of the head.
'Let me make sure. You know what you've got to do. Turn all your pockets inside out, and leave 'em so!' cried the person of the house.
He obeyed. And if anything could have made him look more abject or more dismally ridiculous than before, it would have been his so displaying himself.
'Here's but seven and eightpence halfpenny!' exclaimed Miss Wren, after reducing the heap to order. 'Oh, you prodigal old son!
Now you shall be starved.'
'No, don't starve me,' he urged, whimpering.
'If you were treated as you ought to be,' said Miss Wren, 'you'd be fed upon the skewers of cats' meat;--only the skewers, after the cats had had the meat. As it is, go to bed.'
When he stumbled out of the corner to comply, he again put out both his hands, and pleaded: 'Circumstances over which no control--'
'Get along with you to bed!' cried Miss Wren, snapping him up.
'Don't speak to me. I'm not going to forgive you. Go to bed this moment!'
Seeing another emphatic 'What' upon its way, he evaded it by complying and was heard to shuffle heavily up stairs, and shut his door, and throw himself on his bed. Within a little while afterwards, Lizzie came down.
'Shall we have our supper, Jenny dear?'
'Ah! bless us and save us, we need have something to keep us going,' returned Miss Jenny, shrugging her shoulders.
Lizzie laid a cloth upon the little bench (more handy for the person of the house than an ordinary table), and put upon it such plain fare as they were accustomed to have, and drew up a stool for herself.
'Now for supper! What are you thinking of, Jenny darling?'
'I was thinking,' she returned, coming out of a deep study, 'what Iwould do to Him, if he should turn out a drunkard.'
'Oh, but he won't,' said Lizzie. 'You'll take care of that, beforehand.'
'I shall try to take care of it beforehand, but he might deceive me.
Oh, my dear, all those fellows with their tricks and their manners do deceive!' With the little fist in full action. 'And if so, I tell you what I think I'd do. When he was asleep, I'd make a spoon red hot, and I'd have some boiling liquor bubbling in a saucepan, and I'd take it out hissing, and I'd open his mouth with the other hand--or perhaps he'd sleep with his mouth ready open--and I'd pour it down his throat, and blister it and choke him.'
'I am sure you would do no such horrible thing,' said Lizzie.
'Shouldn't I? Well; perhaps I shouldn't. But I should like to!'
'I am equally sure you would not.'
'Not even like to? Well, you generally know best. Only you haven't always lived among it as I have lived--and your back isn't bad and your legs are not queer.'
As they went on with their supper, Lizzie tried to bring her round to that prettier and better state. But, the charm was broken. The person of the house was the person of a house full of sordid shames and cares, with an upper room in which that abased figure was infecting even innocent sleep with sensual brutality and degradation. The doll's dressmaker had become a little quaint shrew; of the world, worldly; of the earth, earthy.
Poor doll's dressmaker! How often so dragged down by hands that should have raised her up; how often so misdirected when losing her way on the eternal road, and asking guidance! Poor, poor little doll's dressmaker!
